


The Tower

by soggyhook



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tangled (2010) Fusion, F/M, Lieutenant!Killian, Tangled (2010) References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4218792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soggyhook/pseuds/soggyhook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princess Emma is kidnapped by Ingrid, the Dark One, as a baby. It isn't until she grows up that she finally learns the truth and escapes with a handsome lieutenant at her side. Captain Swan/Lieutenant Duckling/Tangled AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Once upon a time, the power of darkness was tethered to a person. This person was Ingrid. She had everything she could ever want, and could get anything she ever needed, but she still felt a hole in her heart. She was missing something: love.

Ingrid was not particularly evil. She had been the Dark One as long as she could remember. The power came into her hands as she tried and failed to save her sisters. She’d lived in the darkness since then, and only now was considering a “way out” through the light of love. And she knew what she had to do. What she wanted to do. Darkness pulled at the strings of her heart, and she let it in. 

* * *

 

 

The Charmings had everything they ever wanted. Snow White and Prince Charming always overcame the impossible. They always found each other. They found a way to defeat the Evil Queen, and were now living joyously. They were expecting a child. Ingrid knew from the many announcements they made to the kingdom, proclaiming their good news as a way of hope for their people.

And it was a way of hope. But not in the way they’d imagined.

Ingrid was going to take the child. Raise her as her own. A child born of True Love would come to love her. There couldn’t be a shred of darkness in her. And she would never learn the truth.

When the child was born, they’d had a ceremony and declared her to be “Princess Emma.”

Ingrid came during nightfall. The second darkness hit, she harnessed her own dark power to poof herself to Emma’s room. She was sleeping preciously in her crib, wrapped in a knitted blanket with “Emma” stitched near the bottom. Unicorns hung above her head and twinkled in the starlight, led in from the window across the room.

A cry was all that was needed. Snow and Charming woke in a dash. But they made it to Emma’s room only to see the Dark One, in her devilishly bedazzled black dress, leave the room in a curl of black smoke. With the impossible: Emma crying in her arms.

* * *

 

News had spread to the kingdom by morning, and guards had been searching all night.

Days passed. Months. Years.

Charming smiled at Snow, weakly one night, in their bedroom. His hand cradled her cheek. “We’ll find her. As we have always found each other.”

Snow smiled, barely mustering a breath. Normally, she was the one who would be giving the hope speech. She kissed his cheek and dragged him to bed by his hand. She mumbled, pulling him to her in bed, “If I had a penny for every time someone gave _me_ the hope speech... Oh wait, I’d still be broke.” She kissed him, trying to push her worst nightmares aside.

* * *

 

Emma grew up in a tower, cloaked with invisibility. Ingrid raised her as her own. She taught her to walk and read and eat and sing. She taught Emma everything she knew, and would often go on trips, disguised as a commoner, to pick up books and paint for Emma.

Emma grew up an artist, covering every wall in her room with flowers and castles and knights. Ingrid worried, as Emma was feisty. She wanted to get out and explore the world—that much was evident even from a young age. She wanted to stop the bad guys and participate in the Ogre Wars. She claimed to know when Ingrid was lying. It was her “superpower.” Ingrid was stunned, and told her that she knew best: “Mother knows best,” she would muffle into her golden hair, brushing the locks away from her face, hoping her worries would disappear with the knots in her hair. 

* * *

 

21 years had passed since the Princess of the kingdom had been kidnapped by the Dark One. No one had any ideas on how to get her back. In fact, the kingdom was facing a new problem: an ogre war.

As if the last one had not ended badly enough.

Killian Jones boarded the Jolly Roger, his fellow officers trailing behind him. It would not be long before his Captain and brother, Liam, boarded the ship, fresh with orders from the King.

Killian Jones was handsome. His eyes and smile led directly to his pure heart, and he was respected by everyone aboard the ship, despite having the title of “Lieutenant” rather than “Captain.”

When Liam finally arrived on the ship, he spoke in a clear, direct manner: “It is the King’s orders that we find the Dark One. Not only would finding the Dark One help us turn the tide of the war, but finding her would also help locate the Lost Princess.”

“What exactly do we need from the Dark One?” Killian asked, his eyebrows raising slightly. The Dark One would have the Lost Princess, yes, but help the kingdom win the Ogre War?

“The Dark One’s dagger, of course. If we find Ingrid’s dagger, we can control her, willing her to use her powers to grant the ogres what they want: a compromise, an exchange. The King wasn’t clear on the strategy for after we obtain the dagger, only this: retrieving the dagger could manipulate the ogres into retreat.” He looked at his crew. “It is time we go.”

* * *

 

Emma was twenty-one. _Twenty-one!_ And she was still living in this wretched tower with her mother Ingrid.

She was still being manipulated.

“Mom, don’t you think it’s time I get my own place? Maybe somewhere overlooking the ocean? With some rum?” Emma looked at her mother through narrow eyes. She was tired of hearing how the world was a dangerous place. She was tired of hearing that her mother knew best. “ _Mom_.” I

ngrid approached her, stopped where she stood in front of Emma. Almost tauntingly.

“Emma, the outside world is a dangerous place.” This elicited an eye roll from Emma. Was Ingrid trying to sound like a broken record? “Even more so now that the ogres have declared war. Again.”

“I am old enough to do as I please.”

This was more than true. The only thing keeping her from running was the respect she had for her mother. As if she hadn’t read enough stories of abandonment as a child; who knows how that could hurt her mom. And she loved her, didn’t she? Growing up knowing no one else, except the people she met in her books, caused her to doubt her actions. Having no clear map of the world made her feet hesitant. But it also made her want to _run_. She didn’t have Rapunzel’s long hair, though it was just as golden—if not more. She unknowingly wore the mark of True Love on her heart, and it was all causing her own misery, her inability to leave, her compassion for Ingrid.

“Emma, _enough_.”

“Do you know how old I am today, Mother? _Twenty-one_. I am old enough to drink, and I can’t even go to a bar to celebrate!”

Ingrid sighed. Her black dress showcased her darkness, and all the while hid it. Emma didn’t know she was the Dark One, and Ingrid hoped she never would.

Ingrid looked into Emma’s pleading eyes. She had to know she was going to grow up someday, but she still couldn’t fathom being alone. She finally had a family, a daughter. And she wasn’t going to let anyone take that from her. She sighed. “Okay. I’ll go into town, and get some rum for you, if it is what you so want. But it will take three days’ time.”

She didn’t need to ask twice. Soon enough, Emma was helping her pack, making a list of things she wanted from various shops, and was sending her out the door.

“I love you, Mother.”

“I love you the most.”

They embraced, and Ingrid trailed down the staircase. She didn’t think to bring her darkest secret with her. Emma watched her leave from the window, and waved. When she knew she wouldn’t be turning back she thought: N _ow. How the hell shall I make my escape?_


	2. Chapter 2

_Now. How the hell shall I make my escape?_

It was unclear what caused this exact change in Emma. Maybe it was Ingrid’s rigid responses. Her nonsense answers. Maybe it was because the past twenty one years of her life flashed before her eyes, and she couldn’t see herself picking up a paintbrush ever again. She couldn’t see herself waking from the tower with the same view she has had all her life. She could no longer envision a life.

As she began to dwell on the thought, she began to hate Ingrid. What were they doing up here, really? This lifestyle suited no one. It was as if they were hiding from something.

And with that, Emma circled the small tower and began to search.

* * *

 

The Jolly Roger had been sailing smoothly for a few hours now. The crew was headed North, towards the outer most edge of the Enchanted Forest. Though Killian thought the mission was going to be a bust, he followed his brother’s instructions, and tried to look out past the water with a smile. He always found it calming, even when he was on official business.

As he stared out to sea, he saw the tallest trees of the forest coming into view on the right. What he saw next made him question if he had something in his eyes. He took a second before seeing, yet again, a lurking…thing… in the water. It was springtime.

But it looked like an iceberg. _Bloody hell._

“Liam, I think we have a problem.”

Liam came sauntering over. “What is it now, Killian? Don’t you trust the King’s orders?” He knew what Killian really thought about the trip, and didn’t want to hear any more complaining. When Killian mentioned the ice berg, Liam stood a little taller, and looked up. “Let me have a hand at your spyglass will you?” Killian reached into the inner pocket of his navy jacket, and handed the object over to him. Liam confirmed the suspicion when he shouted: “Ice berg! Let’s slow her down, now, shall we?”

So it was a shock to all when the Jolly Roger picked up speed. When the wind thrashed across the air. When violent waves began hitting the boat. When the Jolly Roger herself flipped over into the depths of the relentless waves.

The ship mates were gasping for air in the violent waters when the ice berg melted, as if it had never even been there.

* * *

 

Emma had been searching the tower for a few hours now. She hadn’t found anything worth finding. She’d gone through all the drawers, wardrobes and boxes and felt like she was reliving her life: there were the paints she used, the books she read, the knitting needles, the pens. Buttons and coins. Dust and dirt and flimsy string.

The tower she resided in was your basic one; circular, with two steeping staircases: one leading up in curves, one down in curves. The bedrooms were upstairs, and she felt taunted by them as she had searched the main floor, because really: what did she expect to find down here?

Her heart felt like lead as she trudged up the stairs. She wasn’t naïve enough to think she wouldn’t find something incriminating—she just didn’t want to.

When she finally reached Ingrid’s room she stopped. Now, there was just a big, daunting door between herself and the truth. She took a breath before pushing it open.

She’d been in Ingrid’s room before, but never for so long.

Mirrors of various sizes covered the sky blue walls, and an occasional snow flake would fill in an empty space. The bed was on the right side of the room and, on the left, there was a vanity with small dressers on either side. Emma currently faced the window, where a white wardrobe was standing to its right.

She immediately approached the vanity and flung the drawers open. She met a variety of powders, brushes and ties. She moved on to the other drawer, where things began to get interesting: a velvet cloth was delicately wrapped around a thin object. Emma picked it up, so that the cloth unraveled. It was when she saw “Ingrid” engraved in bold, dark lettering that the knife fell to the floor with a clang.

* * *

 

Killian Jones woke up on the edge of the shore, with sand in his hair and ocean in his lungs. He sat up and coughed the salt water out of his system. There was no one on the shore near him. He took a moment before standing up, and noticed the tall forest behind him. He’d made it to their destination, but he was alone.

“Liam!” He began shouting as he ran to the ocean’s edge. His frantic eyes accompanied his heavy breathing.

The ocean contrasted him because it was calm. There was no ice berg. No ship. No arms flailing in the water. No white flag. He was alone and he didn’t know how.

* * *

 

Emma gasped. Ingrid had talked about the Dark One before. She had said that he was controlled by a dagger with his own name as an inscription upon it. _Why had she said this?_

Emma reached down to pick it up. _It couldn’t be because…?_

Emma’s heart stopped as she began to piece together an unbelievable truth: her mother was the Dark One. Her mother was the Dark One and wouldn’t let her leave.

* * *

 

Killian had been staring at the ocean. It was doing nothing for his nerves or the beat of his heart. It was doing nothing for the worry that he knew was the truth: his brother was dead with the rest of the crew.

The captain always goes down with his ship, but…what of this? Nothing made sense.

He remained a man of action despite his terrible confusion. He picked himself up, and began walking into the deep depths of the forest. Though it was still early morning, he knew darkness would eventually hit—and he didn’t want to be here when it happened, with the serenity of the sea mocking him.

A village over from the tower, Ingrid smiled. She’d fixed the immediate threat: the latest crew the king sent out would be dead.

She was sitting in a small café, drinking tea as she gloated to herself. Her glamour spell gave her a younger looking face, with thick, curly black hair with dark eyes to match. Her blonde-hair-blue-eyed nature had been exchanging for a more opposite appearance.

When she’d overheard villagers speak of a possible end to the Ogre War she turned around to hear what the king was planning. She just didn’t expect it to involve herself.

A dwarf was speaking to a small group of people: “The king is going to fix everything! He’s sending out the Royal Navy right now to find the Dark One!”

 _For such a small man, he’s got a big mouth._ The group proceeded to sit down when Ingrid turned around and decided she’d had enough. No one was going to find her or Emma. Besides, she wasn’t one to do another’s bidding.

* * *

 

Killian had been wandering in the forest. He realized he had no direction, and that he was walking without aim. He was surrounded by the tallest trees in the land. He was plagued by loss. He was being.

Though he would have perceived himself to be going nowhere, Killian made it to a large clearing. He wasn’t even registering that he had slipped under a short tunnel to get there.

 _Beautiful_ , he thought, after setting his eyes on a large log in the center. He sat down, and ran his hands through the dirt. He was angry, and he didn’t know how to deal with it. His hands found a rock, and he threw it in the space in front of him.

The space in front of him began to glimmer.

He was seeing things, _again_. This only proved to poke holes at his heart. So he threw another rock. And then another. And another. Until he felt like he didn’t have a heart, or like, if he did, that it stopped.

His eyes followed the height of the tower that had magically emerged in front of him.

* * *

 

Thump. Thump. Thump.

 _Ingrid couldn’t be back already; it’s three days too soon._ Emma took a gulp. _It’s as if she knows._

Her mind was racing. She ran down the steps leading from her room, only to realize the sound wasn’t coming from the stairs. It was coming from outside the window.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t Ingrid.

* * *

 

When Killian approached the tower, it didn’t seem to have a door.

That wasn’t stopping him. He gathered a two sticks, and used them to climb his way to the top where he could see shutters. It didn’t take long, and the focus of the climb kept his mind away from less pleasant things. He pushed through the shutters with a breath of finality, and stood relieved.

* * *

 

Emma was still gripping the compass she was about to pack in her bag, when she realized the sound was coming from the main window. She ran to it, and hid to the side as she greeted the handsome man who stepped into the tower with a nice hit to the head.

He dropped to the ground.

She flinched when she took in his beauty, and when she was finally able to note that she didn’t know who he was.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_What the hell. Of all things._

_On second thought: at least it wasn’t Ingrid._

Emma started by tying the handsome… _lieutenant_ … to a chair. She grabbed his shoulders and sat him upright, knowing he would wake in a few minutes. She hesitated before running upstairs and grabbing the bag she had begun to pack earlier.

The dagger was nestled inside, wrapped in a purple scarf adorned with small, golden suns. She pulled it out as she made her way downstairs, slowing as she saw the man was in his same dismantled position.

He was in the center of the room and, unbeknownst to her, would become the center of her world. As small as it was.

Emma made her way to him, dropped her bag on a side table. As he started to shift in his seat, she took a stance behind him, the dagger near his neck.

He began to blink a few times before shaking his head and muttering, “ _Bloody hell_.” What had he gotten himself into? When he’d made the instinctive decision to climb the tower, he hadn’t thought about who could be lurking _in_ it. He opened his eyes to see a sweeping staircase leading up. He sighed and didn’t even try to fight the ropes gathered around his hands, stomach and feet. He just breathed.

Bewildered by his odd complacency, Emma lowered the dagger and whirled around to face him. She was pulled into the depths of his dark eyes, when he let out an exhausted chuckle and raised an eyebrow. “Great job, lass. Never would I have expected to have been captured by a girl.”

The dagger was suddenly pointed at his neck. “Woman.”

Killian took in her delicate face, her determined eyes, and most of all, her long, golden hair. She could have been Rapunzel for all he knew. He sounded defeated when he said, “Aye.”

“Who are you? What brought you here?” She slowly raised the dagger to trace the outline of his jaw, taunting him. Her eyes hardened. “Who. Are. You.”

Killian Jones had nothing to lose. And, as far as he knew, nothing to live for. His heart sang for his brother, his crew, the Jolly Roger. His heart betrayed him when he said, “Killi—. Kill me.”

 _It’s kind of been a rough day for me._ Rough didn’t even begin to cover it.

Emma gasped, not sure how to handle the situation. She’d never been in this situation. _Hell_. She’d never interacted with another human being. All she knew was Ingrid. And even now she was learning that she didn’t know her at all.

“You do see this _dagger_ , against your neck? It is not a toy. This is not a game. Tell me who you are.” He flinched as she made a point to push it into his neck.

Uncomfortable, he licked his lips and lowered his eyes. “Killian Jones. I was…following orders from the King when…” He stopped. He didn’t want to go on. He’d never been able to process what he thought he knew, and now he was going to be forced to say it? His eyes settled on a painted constellation near the staircase.

Emma saw the despair in his eyes, but pushed him. “When what?”

“When our ship capsized.” He finally looked up to meet Emma’s eyes, adding softly, “And I lost my shipmates and my brother.”

Emma took a minute. “So…you stumbling here was, what, fate?”

“If you believe in the wretched thing, so be it.” He shook his head. Sarcasm crept into his voice. “It was fate. It most certainly was not with the help of anything, much less a horse. I walked here all the way from the shore. I didn’t want to be there when darkness hit. Things have been dark enough. I don’t even know how I survived the damn thing.” He gave her a thin-lipped smile, but it wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. Not that Emma noticed.

 _Oh, he’s gorgeous. Stop. Emma, stop._ She took a breath. She reached out and touched his shoulder with her free hand, leaning into him. She spoke lightly when she said: “I have a super power, and I can tell when someone is lying. And if you are lying to me, I can tell you who dead guy of the year is going to be.” Her mouth was set in a thin line, and she wanted to use the influence of the dagger again when she saw sadness enter his eyes.

She took a step back. “Okay. Okay.” Her mind was spinning. She was going to set him free.

* * *

 

“Thank you, lass.” Killian was playing with his hands, unsure of what to do. “So what is next on the agenda?”

Emma was standing by the window. She was looking out, longing. “We’re leaving.”

Killian wasn’t ready to leave. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep and wake up from this nightmare. He walked over to Emma. “We?”

“Yes, we. I can’t leave you here. My mother will be coming back in a few days.”

 _A few days?_ It sounded like heaven to him. He didn’t want to admit to himself what would be the best course of action: returning to the King and reporting the terrible thing as soon as possible.

“Besides,” she continued, “I need a guide.” She turned away from the window to look at him. “I need you to be my guide.”

“Me? Why?” As beautiful as the lass was, he wasn’t ready to take her up on anything. _Yet._

“You owe me. The way I see it, I could have killed you.” She took a step closer to him. “Perhaps gratitude is in order now.”

He took a step closer to her. “Aye. That’s what the thank you was for.”

They were staring into each other’s eyes. “Well, I’m going to need more than that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You seem quite capable on your own. Even likeable, if you weren’t so demanding.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Perhaps I would like to.”

It was a bullet to her heart. She lowered her voice. “ _I_ don’t know anything about me.”

“You could start by telling me your name.” His voice was encouraging.

“Emma. My name is Emma.” A breath. “I finally have the opportunity to leave this place, only I don’t know where I’m leaving to. I’d rather not end up killed by an ogre or something on my day of freedom.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never left this place? Ever?”

She shook her head. He didn’t really know what to think of this, until he remembered how he _found_ the tower. “Emma, you do know there is some kind of cloaking spell on this tower?”

“What are you talking about?”

“As I was making my way through the forest, I came across a clearing. I was exhausted and angry and just started throwing rocks when the tower _appeared_. Like magic. The rocks seemed to shatter the illusion. I don’t know, I’m not quite sure how these things work. But it definitely was…hidden.”

This new information only confirmed her suspicions about Ingrid. Emma sank to her knees. “No. Oh my god, no.”

Killian moved towards her, put a hand on her shoulder. “What is it, lass?”

“My mother. I’ve always asked her if I could leave, but here I am: twenty one, still living with her, and, for some reason, forbidden to leave this place.” She paused. She wasn’t sure the dagger was worth mentioning to him. She hardly understood what it meant. But maybe. Just maybe he would. “Have you ever heard of the Dark One?”

Killian let out a dark laugh. “Aye. Finding the Dark One was part of my mission. The King had ordered us to seek her out, in hopes of finding the Lost Princess and turning the tide of the Ogre Wars.”

“What does the Dark One do?”

“Well, aside from being the most powerful sorceress in all the lands, she is controlled by a dagger. The King wanted to use that control to get her to change…fate, if you want to put it that way.” He scratched his head.

“Does the Dark One have a name?” She stopped breathing.

“Aye; Ingrid.” Emma screamed.

And in that terrible moment, Killian knew he had found the Lost Princess. He didn’t decide to question the irony of Fate. He would have scoffed; and Fate, she would have laughed. 

* * *

 

 

 _Get it together, Emma. Get it together._ She was descending the large staircase, and had exchanged her small bag for a brown, leather satchel. She’d also changed from her fitted purple dress. She was now donning gray pants, and a long sleeved cream shirt, embroidered with small swirls and roses. It was topped off with a high collared faded blue-black vest, and belted with the skin of a crocodile. Her hands were clothed in high, brown gloves and she wished she had a sword to place in them. She couldn’t be more prepared for anything.

Killian looked up when he heard the sound of her boots descending the steps. “Going into battle now, are we?”

“Ha ha. You tell me.” She raised her eyebrows at him. They made quite the pair: Emma, prepared to fight in her new ensemble, and Killian, still wearing his navy uniform. “Actually, let’s get out of here first.”

“I take it we don’t have to leave through the window.” There was a twinkle in his eyes.

“No, we don’t.” She almost laughed. Not quite, but almost. “The stairs work quite nicely.”

“Alright, milady. After you.” He gestured nicely for her to move forward.

She smiled slightly and patted her bag, feeling confident in its contents. It contained the dagger and the compass, two of several important things. “As you wish.”

They descended the steps, and came out through the hidden back door of the tower. When they reached the grass, Emma let out a huge sigh of relief and looked up. “Wow. It looks so much different from here.”

She started to walk away from it, ready to leave her past forever. It was hard to believe she spent all her life pent up there. She was tempted to take off her shoes to feel the grass and dirt beneath her feet. The spring breeze was running through her hair and she could feel the huge grin across her face. “This feels better than I ever thought it would.”

“Aye. I can’t imagine.”

Emma smiled. “I suppose we should go. You could tell me more on the way to the kingdom?”

Killian smiled. “ _Your_ kingdom.”

Emma nudged his arm. “Stop. I’m not taking on the role of Princess just yet. This isn’t some fairytale in a book. Besides, I think we have more things to worry about. Ingrid, for instance. I don’t know what she’s going to do when she finds out what’s happened. And you still have to find your brother and shipmates.”

He flinched. “I don’t want to think about that right now. The least I can do is finish this mission.”

“Killian, you don’t know what happened. He could have survived. You said yourself you don’t even know how _you_ survived.”

They were making their way out of the clearing, and were finally walking under the tunnel Killian had walked so mindlessly under before. It was in the darkness of that tunnel when Emma stopped and said, “Hope can be a very powerful thing.”

He looked into her eyes a moment too long. “Aye. But what of false hope?”

Emma looked down at her boots. “The way I see it, it’s better to believe in something. Why dwell on the possibility of something, when it may not even be the end of your story?”

Killian smirked. “I thought this wasn’t a fairytale.”

The corners of her lips twitched. “It’s not.” She was distracted by his cocky smirk, so it took her a minute for her to pick up her feet and for him to follow her lead.

When they made it out of the short tunnel, Killian noticed how the sun highlighted her golden hair, how it created sparkles in her eyes. He scratched his head, surprised he was even able to think of Emma like this. He was on a mission. Orders of the King. His brother may or may not be dead. He sighed.

Emma was going to ask if he was okay when they both stopped to stare at the small, wooden tavern straight ahead.

“What is that?” Emma asked. The dirt path they were on led straight to it. When they were closer, they saw a small sign with a yellow duck on it. “The Snuggly Duckling?” Emma looked at Killian. “Ever been there?”

“No.” A beat. “Want to go in?”

“I know we haven’t been traveling long, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t give for a cheese sandwich.”


	4. Chapter 4

Whatever ideas Emma had about the real world could never have prepared her for this.

She walked through the door as Killian held it open for her, and took in the scene ahead.

She suddenly felt the urge to put her satchel in front of her chest. She resisted it. She had been prepared to fight in the ogre wars, or so she said, so why couldn’t she possibly handle this?

Killian saw her tense, and put his hand protectively around her back. He surveyed the room, took in the bar with the various personalities—the various weapons—and began to lead her to a small table in the corner. “Why don’t we take that one over there?”

Emma nodded her head, avoiding making eye contact with the large man and his hook, the man with ten axes, the swords and blades and arrows she would rather not have pointed at her.

They only took a few steps before making a quick left and taking that sad, empty table in the corner. From there, they could survey all the happenings in the tavern and make a quick escape if necessary.

“This is not what I expected.” Emma put her satchel on the table. “What are we even doing here?”

“I do recall someone asking for a cheese sandwich. And I, love, could go for some rum.”

Emma rolled her eyes before realizing the significance of the date. “You know what? Me too.”

“Okay, love. I’ll get you a glass.”

“No, I’ve got this.”

Killian watched bewildered as Emma stood up and made her way to the bar. Her long locks trailed down her back, and she leaned against the bar, still looking somewhat out of place, as she asked for the drinks.

Killian wasn’t the only one giving her odd looks. One group of thugs looked up from a game of chess they were playing to survey her. They continued, but the mood of the bar had changed.

Killian tried to relax, tried to settle in his seat as Emma returned with two small glasses. She set them down on the table, triumphant. “Here you are.”

“Thanks, love.”

Emma nodded to him, tried not to be affected by the ‘love’ that slipped from his lips. She supposed it was something he called everyone. It flowed too naturally out of his mouth. When she sat down again, she tried not to focus on how surreal everything was.

She was free. She finally escaped Ingrid’s prison. She was finally breathing in fresh air with new scenery. When she first walked through the door, she was scared. The large, intimidating figures caused her to doubt herself. She could have escaped Ingrid’s tower only to walk into her own death.

But here she was, with Killian Jones, of all people, having her first drink.

And here he was, Killian Jones, of all people, alive in a tavern with a beautiful princess, even if she herself wouldn’t admit it. He drank his rum, relief flooding through him. It had always been comforting to him, a weakness. While he’d never let it get out of hand, he certainly needed it in this moment. He was sitting in a tavern surrounded by thugs instead of completing the King’s mission.

Only half true. He was going to finish the mission. He had miraculously survived the shipwreck and found the Lost Princess.

But that didn’t mean that he didn’t miss Liam, that his brother’s current status wasn’t causing floods of fear in his mind. It was doubtful if he was even still alive, especially while Killian doubted his own liveliness. He took a few deep breaths and focused on the woman in front of him. “How are you feeling?”

“Overwhelmed. You?”

“I can relate. We need to focus on getting you to the King as soon as possible. Are you still up for it?”

Emma took a second. She couldn’t let go of her newly gained freedom, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to meet him at all. Why hadn’t he come for her sooner? Was a kingdom more important to her parents than their own daughter? And what if Ingrid found her again? What if in an attempt to protect her, she gets locked away again—but forever?

“Calm down, love. You don’t need to be so excited about the trek.” He flashed her a toothy smile, trying to comfort her, but he could see the restless questions in her eyes.

“I’m worried about what happens when I get back. I have my freedom, and I can’t have that taken away from me again. I don’t know anything about my father...” She trailed off after refraining from saying ‘the king.’ Even ‘father’ sounded sour in her mouth.

“Emma, there is no need to worry. Your parents are kind, benevolent rulers. What happened to you couldn’t have been prevented. The bloody _Dark One_ kidnapped you. You should have no fears going to meet them.” He paused, almost uncertain if she would hold on to his words. “They knew…they always said how they would always find you, that you would come back to them. Their blind faith is what you need to hold onto right now.”

She gave him a wry smile. “I suppose you’re right. It doesn’t mean that I’m not going to avoid using particular titles, though.”

“Understandable, love.” He grimaced, trying not to think of his brother, what his own title could be.

“Hey, you okay?” Realizing the extent of their acquaintance, she tried to make a joke. “What’s wrong, can’t handle your rum?” There was a wicked gleam in her eye.

“ _Of course_ I can handle my rum.” His eyes and mouth twisted, as he smirked devilishly. “It happens to be a preference of mine. Now, unless you are going to order that sandwich, I think it’s time we head out. The King and Queen have waited long enough.” He winked and was about to stand when he noticed the shadows looming over Emma.

“Did someone mention the King and Queen?” A deep, threatening voice filled the air. “Because _I_ know the King and Queen would be _very_ grateful if I returned the Lost Princess.”

Emma flinched, her eyes growing wide. When she looked to Killian, he gave her a small smile but it had no effect on her—he was as nervous as she was. His eyes began to mirror hers.

In a slightly shaky voice Killian said, “Alas, the King and Queen _would_ be grateful. Which is why I think it is time to make our exit.” He and Emma stood up in sync, but Emma was grabbed by her waist and lifted up.

“Hey, put me down!” Emma struggled against his hands. He was probably ten times her size.

“Sorry, Blondie. I’d like to know how much the King and Queen would give me for the Lost Princess.” A crowd began to grow around them. The energy tensed. People began shouting.

“Hey, what if I want a piece of the gold!”

“I was here too! Give her to me!”

“No, give her to _me_!”

Ingrid’s voice came floating to Emma: _Mother knows best—it’s a scary world out there. Take it from your mother, something will go wrong, I swear!_ Though she knew Ingrid had used many unfair fear tactics on her—telling her to fear poison ivy, quick sand, the plague—she knew this was not what Ingrid had in mind. She shook her head furiously and tried to say calmly and firmly, “I have a guide, it’s okay, really.” Nervous laughter came out of her throat and it wasn’t effective. Not in the way she needed it to be.

“Why, I’ve traveled _all_ the realms!”

“Let us all take her—they’ll need back up!”

“Oh, what the King and Queen would give us all for protecting their dear princess!”

Swords and axes and arrows were flashed and it was all Emma could do not to scream.

The grip the man had on her only increased with each shout from the others in the tavern.

Killian was the weakling here, even in his uniform. Sure, he’d had experience with a sword—but there were multiple swords here, and it didn’t stop merely at _swords._ “Men, I thank you for your offer, but the lass here is priceless.” Another wink to calm her down. “But I assure you, she is in great hands—hands that await no prize for her return. So if you please—” He was cut off by the shouts. And then his own shock at Emma’s actions.

 _Going into battle now, are we?_ Yes, perhaps I am. Who would have known the kicks she gave to the thug’s legs, the hard elbows she gave to his arms would have caused him to drop her on her knees. She was up in an instant, the dagger pulled from the satchel, Killian to her side, eyes fierce and angry and unforgiving. “Stop.” She could barely breathe. The noise in the tavern stopped. A circle was forming around the princess and lieutenant. “I have a guide. I need him and he needs me.” A glance, and a step back when the thugs stepped towards them ready to draw their own weapons. She tried to remain steady as she looked at the less intimidating ones.

The mime with the white face, the red lips, the darkly outlined eyes. The tall, thin man in a white vest and tight pants. _He was probably a designer._ Another short man with a long beard, wielding a chicken leg instead of a weapon. If he had heart bows and arrows, he would have been Cupid. She kept the large man with the hook and dark mustache in the back of her mind.

Ingrid had been right about maybe one thing. And she wasn’t going to let her come into her consciousness again to haunt her. Exasperated from everything, but especially from the small part of the world she had finally seen, she took a risk. She set the dagger on the table, and let out a long breath. “Haven’t any of you had a dream?” Her voice was low, but heard by all in the tavern.

“ _I_ had a _dream, once_.”

Emma truly knew nothing about herself. She knew she had limits, as does anyone, but her tolerance and ability to register and contain shock only began to grow. As did the size of her eyes.

Hook Hand made his way forward. His confession made his appearance less scary.

He approached Emma and Killian with his head down. He began: “I’m malicious, mean and scary. My sneer could curdle dairy. And I’ll admit my hands are not the cleanest. But despite my evil look and my temper and my hook, I’ve always yearned to be a concert pianist.” Then he was off to the piano, which rested in the small space near the end of the bar. His hand and hook reigned supreme, providing a melody for the rest of the thugs.

“Tor would like to quit and be a florist!”

“Gunther does interior design!”

“Ulf is into mime!”

“Bruiser knits!”

“Killer sews!”

“Fang does little puppet shows!”

“And Vladimir collects ceramic unicorns!”

Emma couldn’t help but laugh, the sound ringing out absolutely pure.

Killian’s eyebrows had arched, but Emma’s laughter was contagious. He laughed and laughed and laughed, inspired. Soon enough, a cheese sandwich was made for Emma, another drink was poured for Killian, and the unlikely group formed around the bar. The piano continued to spark the conversation of dreams.

Their conversation and laughter could be heard from outside the tavern.

So much so that it disturbed a woman with dark curls and alarmed eyes a village over.

Ingrid was not far from the tavern. And when she found her way to it, she stopped in her tracks. She peered through the window, her lips drawn out in a thin line. _Impossible._ She saw Emma devouring her sandwich, listening to thugs with a cheerful grin on her face. A lieutenant sat next to her, drawn to Emma more than the conversation with the thugs. _There shouldn’t have been a survivor._ Her thoughts darkened. He couldn’t stay in this picture forever.

But it wasn’t until she heard Emma exclaim how glad she was to have fled her tower that Ingrid’s heart felt pain. She had done everything for her. She loved Emma and she had never doubted that Emma loved her—until she caught onto Emma’s glances to Killian. _The lieutenant._

Ingrid remembered this man. She knew he was the captain’s brother, that he would be loyal to him and the King. There was no doubt that he had been hurting over the loss of his brother. _Interesting._ Hope was a powerful thing, she knew from her own experience. The memory caused her to close her eyes. _Hope is a powerful thing._ She knew her plan may not work but, if it did, it would be well worth it. Killian would be gone. And Emma would be hers again.

Ingrid knew what she had to do.

Distracted from her thoughts, she didn’t notice a grumpy dwarf march into the bar.

And she certainly didn’t notice when he ran out, air in his lungs, as he raced to tell the King and Queen who he had found.


	5. Chapter 5

“The Lost Princess is coming! The Lost Princess is coming!”

Charming and Snow were in the meeting room, quietly discussing the not-so-delicate problem of the Ogre Wars. So they were very startled when Grumpy came rushing in, taking off his cap, and announcing triumphantly: “The Lost Princess is coming!”

Snow and Charming locked eyes, standing together immediately. Their fellow council stirred: the girl with dark hair and widened eyes, the older woman with knitting needles in her wrinkled hands, the green cricket who sat on the table in front of an empty chair, the young boy who turned to look at his father as he sat in his lap.

The knights tensed, alert, ready to be sent out immediately. But no such thing occurred.

Snow and Charming looked at each other with tears in their eyes, holding each other in their arms. They had yet to have any confirmation but they believed. They knew it was their daughter sitting at the Snuggly Duckling but a few hours away. Their mouths formed small smiles as the truth became bearable.

Charming spoke in a low voice to Snow, moving a small strand of hair off her cheek, “I told you so.”

Snow kissed him, despite their company. Despite Grumpy’s immediate protests and questions. It was a few moments before she finally turned to look at him, mischief in her eyes. “How do you know it’s really Emma?”

The dwarf stood a little straighter. “She said so herself. I heard her talking to the men in the tavern. Besides, she was with a lieutenant. Wearing _our_ uniform.”

Snow grinned and turned to Charming. The past twenty one years flashed before her eyes.

She remembered the days when she believed so hopefully that her daughter would be returned to her. Then, she was able to smile through her tears. She remembered time as soon as weeks ago, when Emma seemed like a nightmare, a bad dream, a tragedy that had never really happened to her and her True Love. In this era of her life, she quit lighting candles, quit baking the cakes. Emma’s birthday was a hand crushing her heart. She remembered the first of many, many long days her mouth didn’t deliver what it was most known for: hope. It is because of this that she remembered Charming better than anyone or anything else. His eyes and his smile and his heart had always told her never to give away the last piece of faith she had. Blinded, she hadn’t listened. She wouldn’t make the mistake again.

Snow knew she would always remember this moment, the moment he said, “The ogres can wait. It’s time to prepare the Kingdom to meet our daughter.”

She kissed him. She kissed him so passionately the others in the room blushed. She kissed him so passionately she felt she was waking him from a sleeping curse—and perhaps she was, because for now, it seemed, the curse was finally over.

* * *

 

In all their joy, the King and Queen didn’t think of the Dark One.

The Dark One who stood infuriated outside of the tavern, glaring at the lieutenant from the window.

 _Damn him._ Putting holes in her plans. Stealing Emma. He would have to pay. But she would be gentle with him. She wouldn’t make him suffer any longer than he needed to. Just enough for her to get her way. Then to get away with Emma, as if neither of them had ever left.

She didn’t want to do this. She needed to do it. She smiled, as she saw him get up from the bar.

Emma was laughing when Killian stood up. “Love, I’m going to step outside if you don’t mind. Will you be okay if I left you unattended for a moment?”

Emma smiled at him, almost laughed at how formal he was being.

Their attention was brought away from the other when Vladimir, the largest of the men in the tavern, came to sit next to them, holding two ceramic unicorns. It was when he made them kiss that Emma and Killian shared a knowing smile, assured that the danger left as soon as the piano began to play.

Killian made his way through the tavern, smiled softly as he passed some of the men, getting large grins in return. He walked out the door, relieved when he got a breath of fresh air. He was doing fine. He was going to complete the King’s mission. He was going to return the gorgeous woman in the tavern to her family. Though, it was very clear she could do it on her own. From knocking Killian out and tying him to a chair, to stopping the thugs with several simple words, he was sure Emma was capable of anything. _As she should be,_ he thought, _being the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming._ He took a few breaths as he paced outside the tavern. He could feel the anxiety begin to stir in his heart. He leaned against a tree, facing the direction he and Emma had come from, where the tower hid. He closed his eyes and sighed.

_“Killian!”_

He was jolted from his thoughts. It was so abrupt, it seemed as if he had been sleeping. He felt drunk as his eyes adjusted on the familiarity before him: the cream and navy blue colors, the shining gold circles, the short and curly hair.

“Liam?” Killian blinked. He couldn’t believe it. His brother was breathing with lips that weren’t blue. His eyes were wide, full of energy and urgency. “Liam! Brother, how are you here?” He ran forward to embrace him. The strings of anxiety that had been pulling at his heart had finally been cut.

“I should be asking you the same thing. I survived as you did. Too miraculously, it seems. Fate must have intervened.”

Killian rolled his eyes. “You know how I feel about _Fate,_ Liam.”

“Your survival hasn’t made you question it?”

Killian gritted his teeth. _“No.”_

Liam stepped forward, put an awkward hand on Killian’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. We should go.”

“Go where, Liam?” He surveyed his brother with intent eyes.

“Find the rest of our crew. You can’t possibly believe we were the only survivors.”

He looked down as he answered, “Alas, I do.”

“When the King summoned me for this difficult journey, I knew there was only one person I could trust—my little brother.”

“Younger,” Killian pitched in.

Liam smiled, a bit painfully. “The point being, I am going to need you, _Lieutenant._ We need to find the rest of our crew.”

Killian stole a glance at the tavern, imagined Emma sitting with the rest of the thugs inside. What was she doing right now? Was she still laughing? Was she practicing her miming skills with—what was his name—Ulf? How would she fare tomorrow without him? He shuffled back and forth on his feet, hesitating. “I can’t leave quite yet.”

Something about Liam’s behavior was bothering him. Was it the way he kept pushing _fate fate fate?_ What was it about his brother?

“Of course you can leave, Killian. We have to follow the King’s orders.”

“And when I stay here, I will be.”

Liam’s eyes became slits. “What are you suggesting?”

Killian paused. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t believe the light in his brother’s eyes, why he wasn’t persuaded by his presence. “I found the Lost Princess, and I have every intention of bringing her back to the King and Queen, personally.”

Liam laughed softly, a sharp pitch rising up. “What is this—some school boy’s crush?”

Killian flushed, despite himself. “No, it is not. But she needs a guide.”

“Well, I need a Lieutenant.”

“And I will be your Lieutenant. After I deliver Emma to the King and Queen.”

It was going to be harder to get Killian to ditch Emma than the Dark One imagined.

Liam appeared frustrated. “What, do you think she _likes_ you?” He shook his head. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Staying behind would be following the King’s orders. We could hit two birds with one stone.” Who I’d like to hit with a stone—or worse. “You have to listen to me, Killian. I am your brother as well as your Captain.”

“Captain over what, Liam? The Jolly Roger? The rest of our crew is probably dead, or stumbling around stupidly like I was before I found Emma.”

Liam shook his head. “What if the rest of our crew is _alive_ , Killian?” He paused. The next words were meant to hurt. “You don’t want to find them dead, do you? Haven’t you seen enough _death?”_ The role of the Dark One had its perks; being inherently all knowing, with secrets as ready as spears to the heart, was one of them.

Killian grimaced, memories forcing darkness into his voice and eyes. “I don’t know what would provoke you to say that, but leave Milah out of this.” He was shaking with anger. “What happened to you Liam? The brother I know wouldn’t have said that to me.”

And in that moment, a whirl of black smoke overcame his brother until someone new was revealed.

“Perhaps he wouldn’t. But I would.”

Killian’s eyes rested on the woman in front of him. She had light blonde hair that was pulled back into a bun. Her dress, which was really more of a gown, was made of frail, white lace. It was so long, it trailed behind her. It trailed down her arms in the same manner, tight then loose around her hands. A high collar rose around her neck, and Killian immediately thought, _Villain._ His heart was beating fast and he was struggling to breathe.

“Where is my brother?”

“Oh, Liam? Dear, precious Liam? He’s dead. With the rest of your useless crew. Did the King really think he could pull a fast one on me?” She sounded amused.

Reality hit Killian like a train. “Ingrid.”

“Lieutenant Jones.”

They stared at each other for a long moment before continuing. Nobody passed in or out of the tavern, leaving them with their glares, witness of only the sun.

“What do you want?”

“Isn’t it very clear? I want Emma.”

“Emma doesn’t want you.”

“But she will.” She looked down at her hands, glanced at her nails.

“What makes you think that?”

“I can give her whatever she wants. I have loved her through her entire life. We are a _family_.”

Ingrid did not meet Killian’s expectations. He tilted his head slightly. “She’s always wanted to leave. You have never given her that.”

“We can travel to a new realm. She can have that then.”

“And you think she’d so willingly agree to that?”

“She agreed to you. Leading her from her _home_ like some kind of _Prince Charming_.”

“I never gave myself that title. And I will never give Emma to you.” _As if she’s yours to give._

“Here’s the thing, _pirate._ I want Emma. You want your brother. Unfortunately, you can’t have that.” She paused, a memory floating through her. “I understand that. I understand you more than you think. You weren’t meant to survive, and you weren’t meant to go through this pain. I wouldn’t have allowed it. But Fate gets us all—even the Dark One.”

 _Fate fate fate._ “And I take it the Dark One has a new wardrobe.” Was she as innocent as the white suggested? She couldn’t possibly be. _She killed his brother. She killed his crew. She wasn’t simply the perfect mother she was aspiring to be._

Ingrid laughed. “That I do. And I can offer you a deal.”

“One I’d be stupid to take, I’m sure.”

“Not quite, Lieutenant. Not if you want to remain in _good form_.”

He rolled his eyes. He wasn’t interested in making any deals with the Dark One. He still asked, “And the deal entails…?” “A sure end to the Ogre Wars. You would be doing the kingdom a favor.”

His thoughts crossed to the beautiful blonde in the tavern. “And what of Emma?”

“She would be with me. No harm would come to her. She is my daughter, and I love her.”

“She is twenty-one years old. You aren’t manipulating a child anymore.”

“Did you ever think to ask yourself why I chose Emma?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “She is the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming—”

“Oh, is she?” Killian had enough. He had made up his mind. It never needed making up in the first place.

Ingrid’s voice became bitter, sharp. “She is born of True Love. She wears that mark of goodness on and in her heart. When she understands, she will come to see the light. She will come to love me. I have no doubts that she will understand.”

There was hustle and bustle in the bar. Laughter and shouting.

“Remember what I said to you, Lieutenant. This doesn’t have to be difficult. Everyone wins, if you take the deal.”

 _Everyone except Emma._ He ran his hands through his hair, and looked down. But when he looked up, Ingrid was gone. He glanced around, sensing danger, _knowing who the danger was,_ but he only saw that the door to the Snuggly Duckling was open, with Emma standing in the doorway.

* * *

 

The Kingdom needed a fixer-upper. The ogres had declared war. The Lost Princess was still, well, _lost._ But with Grumpy’s newfound knowledge, Snow and Charming decided it would be best to spread hope to the kingdom.

An announcement was made, with no specifics given out—that would be for the Charmings to hold near and dear to their heart.

They announced that they would be hosting a festival, ending with a sky full of floating lanterns. When Snow addressed her people she declared, “It is so we always remember never to give up hope. When we release the lanterns into the dark night, I want you all to remember this: light can only shine in darkness.” The end of her sentence choked with emotion. All the while Charming had been gripping her hand tightly, whispering words of encouragement in her ear.

When Snow and Charming walked back into the castle, the lovely castle that provided a powerful backdrop for their speech, they talked and dreamed of hope and love and peace, but most spectacularly: bright lights in the sky, leading their daughter back to them.


	6. Chapter 6

“Emma,” Killian breathed.

She stood in the doorway of the Snuggly Duckling, her golden hair trailing over her shoulders, a worried expression on her face.

“Um, how long have you been there?” He didn’t know what to say to her, or if she had overheard Ingrid and her ultimatum.

“Just a moment. You’ve just been gone awhile. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, love. The worry of my brother sent me out the door.” It was no lie. He’d needed fresh air, and the anxiety of knowing and not knowing and hoping and resisting made him feel as though he was unpleasant company for the beautiful princess. He felt like he never really had time to breathe. He felt like his dark aura was suffocating both of them.

Emma strode over to him. He still stood under the shade of the tree, and he could feel that shade penetrate his eyes and his heart. Emma was tempted to reach out and touch him, place a tender hand on his cheek. But she didn’t—couldn’t—do it. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. The sooner we leave here, the sooner we can find your brother.” She gave him a small smile, hoping he’d grab on to the thin ribbon of hope she offered out to him.

It hurt Killian all over. What was he to do? He knew the truth, and pretended not to. “You’re absolutely right, lass.” He was stabbing his own heart. “We should go.”

Emma’s gaze rested on him for a moment before saying, “Okay,” and grinning.

Her excitement must have been contagious, as Killian perked up slightly and asked, “Am I missing out on a joke, love?”

“No. But. There is a tunnel, a shortcut, leading under the Snuggly Duckling, and I think we should take it.”

“You really are ready for an adventure, aren’t you?”

“Well, duh, Lieutenant. I’ve only been missing out.” Playful sarcasm struck her voice. “I had some much time for adventuring in my tower, that I never, ever reread a book. The walls aren’t covered in paint. And I don’t know how to knit or bake or sing. Too many ogres to fight.”

“Feisty, are we?”

“A little, let’s go.” She grabbed his hand, and led him into the tavern once again, waving to the thugs inside.

“We’re ready!” Emma shouted, catching their attention. They led her around the bar, pushing down a lever with a yellow duck on it. Suddenly, steps emerged, the dark tunnel becoming apparent. She felt her heart beating out of her chest, she could hardly contain her excitement. “Thank you so much!”

Killian waved, as well, before descending the steps leading down the tunnel. “And I thank you for shortly relieving this Lieutenant of his duty, and taking care of my princess.”

Emma tried not to notice his particular word choice—the _possessive._ She watched him go down the steps, and paused, kissing Hook Hand’s cheek. He was the thug who wished to be a pianist, who surprisingly responded to her words first. “Go,” he said, “live your dream.”

She beamed at him and nodded, relieved, because it was finally happening. She followed the handsome lieutenant into the darkness, jumping when he turned around to face her. She could barely make out his eyes.

“Got anything useful in that bag of yours?”

She opened her satchel and pulled out some matches, mischief in her voice as she asked, “These suitable to your liking, Lieutenant?”

“Aye, love.” He struck them together, lighting up the tunnel. They both looked around. “Is this the adventure you pictured?”

Emma looked at the bugs crawling along the walls, ignored what she imagined were bats over her head, and immediately flung the skeleton she saw to the back of her mind. She supposed it was a good thing that the matches weren’t providing optimal light. “Anything that does not take place at my tower is classified as an adventure.” She hooked her arm through his. “Come on, the tunnel is supposed to be really short.”

They walked on, the minimal light doing essentially nothing for them. She would take the darkness over the light if it meant she could hold on to Killian’s arm.

The tunnel was short, like Emma said. It left no room for talking, each trapped in their own thoughts: Emma, who was happy and curious and just about ready to face anything; and Killian, a prisoner to his own mind as Emma had been prisoner to her tower. He didn’t want to tell her about Ingrid. What would it do for her but release her temper and her fears? He didn’t have to look at her to know she was doing well; the energy just about emanated from her beautiful body. Besides, he wouldn’t be lying to her—just holding back the truth. He wondered briefly what Liam would do in the situation, knowing he’d choose to follow the King’s orders. And he was. _He was, he was, he was._ He was too attracted to Emma to deny it, and it was making him question his motives—motives, deep down, he knew were pure.

His thoughts flashed back to the Jolly Roger. He and his brother had just boarded the ship, and Liam had said the words that Ingrid said to him: _When the King summoned me for this difficult journey, I knew there was only one person I could trust—my little brother._ Killian tried not to sigh, tried not to shrug off Emma who was still resting on his arm. Emma, who actually reminded him of Liam. She told him that hope was a powerful thing. Faith and hope resided strongly in both of them. Killian had mercilessly questioned the King’s mission. Not out of dislike for Charming, not at all—in another world they could probably have been mates. He feared failure, even when Liam said to him, “Have faith, Lieutenant. This is a mission that will bring peace to the kingdom, and glory to the Jones brothers.” _Not anymore,_ he thought sadly. He felt that Liam would be smarter, that he should be alive guiding Emma to the kingdom. He would know how to play Ingrid’s dark game.

He looked up, the haze from his thoughts disappearing as he saw the sunlight come into the tunnel. _In darkness, light._ He smiled slightly, “Look at that, love.”

Emma was absolutely thrilled. “I can’t believe this is happening, Killian.” Her eyes were wide with all the places she wanted to see, and all the stories she wanted to tell after.

They were only a few yards away, so it didn’t take long for them to get out of the tunnel, relieved. They blew out the pathetic matches, and dropped them at the tunnel’s exit. The sky was bright above them, something out of a painting—and it could have been, for all Emma knew.

Their eyes took in the space before them. The dust trail they were walking on ending quickly in exchange for stone ground. They were on a cliff, a wooden ladder going down before them. A dam was to the right, spinning and circulating water with a wooden wheel. Large planks extended to the right of them, all the way to the flat ground beneath them, helping to keep the large bulk of water contained behind the wooden wall.

Emma looked around, saying, “I guess there’s only one way down.”

Killian nodded at her, wondering where they would even go once they reached the bottom. He could see two caves, but who knew where they lead. A dirt path that skirted off to the left would have to be their best option. Back on green grass. Back in another forest. He sighed. It would be nightfall soon; he could feel the late afternoon sun ticking down the time on his neck.

“You coming?” Emma had already started the descent down.

“Careful, love. Is that even sturdy?” He walked to the cliff’s edge, peering down on her. Emma nodded at him, refusing to delay her descent a moment longer. Killian immediately began making his way down at her response. They both let out huge breaths of relief when they reached the ground.

“Am I glad that’s over,” Emma stated. She brushed herself off, only to see Killian staring off into space. Again. _He is intense._

He was intense with reason. He had turned back and thought he caught a glimpse of white watching them from the cliff. A glimpse of shine and sparkle that could only be the undeniable darkness of Ingrid. _Oh the irony._ He didn’t want to tell Emma, he really didn’t. He felt the trip would go much more smoothly without added drama. He cared about Emma, and he knew Charming and Snow did, too. What could Ingrid possibly know about good form? Or what it meant to him. Still, Killian heard Ingrid’s voice in his ear as he stared at what he hoped and wished wasn’t her blurry form. _Remember what I said to you, Lieutenant. This doesn’t have to be difficult. Everyone wins, if you take the deal._ It was worse knowing that, if it was her, she was resting where they had been only moments ago.

“Earth to Killian. What’s wrong?” She stepped towards him, put a hand on his shoulder. “And don’t lie to me. I do have a super power, you know.”

Killian tried to laugh at her joke, but he simply did not have it in him. The sound came out hushed and nervous. Her hand on his shoulder was the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. Or so it seemed to him. “It’s just…” He paused, taking in her expression. She looked concerned. _As she should be. She is trusting you, you idiot._ “I thought I saw someone. Up there.” He pointed up, but the figure was gone.

And then he heard, bitter and threatening in his ear, _“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Lieutenant.”_ A chill went down his spine. He didn’t have to turn to know Ingrid wasn’t there, all the while _being_ there, whispering threats in his ear. She was the Dark One. She could play this game blindfolded and chained to a tree and she’d still win.

Emma was about to comment how they were probably both too tired, when she saw it. Not the Dark One. But the shaking of the wooden planks. The burst of water that destroyed the wooden wall above them.

“Emma. Run.”

And run she did.

The water chased them, came roaring after them. They willed their feet to move faster. To be one step ahead of the water. It was hard for them to remain confident in their steps when they could hear it chasing them, willing to drown them. Killian tried not to think as he ran. Tried not to wonder why Ingrid was now set to kill them both. Tried not to question if she decided it was worth risking Emma. Tried not to assume that this was just a way for her to assert power over them both. _But Emma doesn’t even know she’s here._

“Killian!” Emma shouted at him, capturing his attention once again. “That’s the only way!” She pointed to the cave in front of them.

It wasn’t far now. It was just out of reach. The more desirable choice would be to swing left and follow the dirt path out of the clearing, but it wasn’t possible for them to outrun the water in time. They had no choice. The cave it was. And it would have been a fine place to find safety had it a way out. Not that either of them could have known or guessed any differently.

The water was kicking the back of their heels. The force of it caused a boulder in the clearing behind them to come crashing towards them, threatening something scarier than the water itself.

“Emma!” Killian shouted until they were both under the safety of the cave, the boulder locking them in. It fell with a loud crash. While it left them no exit, it granted an entrance for water near the bottom to join and drown them.

They ran to the back of the cave, finding it quicker than they wanted to. They’d gone maybe three yards before their hands met the stony back.

The water continued filling the space quickly, meeting their shoes in a cold rush. Killian searched the walls on all sides, again and again, diving under as the water continued to fill. When he rose again, looking at Emma’s frantic eyes, he could no longer deny the truth: he would meet the same end as his brother.

Emma shook her head, not accepting his answer. She pulled the satchel closer to her, readying herself to go under, when Killian caught her arm. “Don’t. It’s no use.”

Emma’s eyes began to flood with her own tears. “This. Is all my fault.” She looked at Killian, the man she began to grow fond of. The man whose life she felt like she took. “I am so sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Killian couldn’t bear to see her cry. She was supposed to get her happy ending. She was supposed to be free. He reached for her hand, held it in his. “It’s not your fault.” He looked down, worried his words would cause a negative stir in her, but wishing to say them. “Besides, love. To die would be an awfully great adventure. Especially if I got through it with you.”

Emma’s laughter choked the sob out of her. She knew of the magical book he was alluding to. And she loved it. She squeezed his hands in return and nodded her head, thinking of all the things she would never see in this world: mermaids and fairies and pirates and family and pixie dust and love and kisses and colorful birds—and she became angry. She was so angry.

It was the kind of anger that couldn’t be described. It was smoke rolling out of her ears, red cheeks and red eyes, the eyes of a dragon that had been manipulated—and knew it. It was a funeral at a wedding and _death death death_ —unfair death to a world that only mocked it.

Emma’s eyes began shaking with electricity. She could feel it rising in her hands. The heat was hard to hold on to, even in the cold water that was now rising past their waists. She let go of Killian’s hand, scared her temper would hurt him, because her temper was hurting her.

She felt it in her heart as she thought of all the work she went through to escape. The small part of the world she had seen, the people she had met, the rum she finally got to drink. The particular date. If Emma was anything in this moment, it was rage itself. She let out a huge groan that shook the entire cave.

The stony wall began to crumble. Killian became alert. The water was now reaching their necks and they hadn’t said anything for a few moments. But when the wall burst, with the power of, what seemed like, the rage of Emma’s groan, he reached across her to stick his hand out the hole, and crawl his way out.

He felt the slippery stones in his hands, and suddenly felt Emma behind him. She quickly realized what was happening, not even questioning the wonder of it. The water was rising, rising, rising, and they were able to take one last breath.

Their hands fumbled in the water, meeting each other’s, trying not to get discouraged, as they moved the last of the crumbling rocks away. The water flowing in behind them pushed them out of the cave, introducing them to a shallow creek. They were both momentarily submerged, but found relief in the light of the sun, the blue of the sky, the presence of each other.

They were close enough to the shore, pulling themselves up, sopping wet, relieved they didn’t have to face the wind, or the cold air of the night. As Emma stood up, she mumbled, “We’re alive?” She looked at Killian. He was coughing, trying to stand up. She ran to him, embracing him. “We’re alive!”

He welcomed her in his arms, not quite wanting to question how. At this point, it didn’t matter _how._ The Lost Princess was alive.

He didn’t want to think it, and he most certainly wasn’t going to say it but he felt that the mark of True Love affected her more deeply than he ever knew. More deeply than _she_ ever knew. He wondered momentarily what Ingrid knew of Emma’s capabilities, if she had any idea what she could be up against.

He was pulled from the mess of his thoughts when Emma let go of him, looking eagerly into his eyes. The electricity was still there, and she was still taking a moment to catch her breath. But he’d be damned if it wasn’t because she set them free from the cave.

If Emma didn’t have powers herself.


	7. Chapter 7

Killian and Emma walked in silence. They were surrounded by the trees of the forest, letting their overbearing heights guide them into the sure kingdom of Snow White and Prince Charming.

However, time was passing quickly, their feet not carrying them to the kingdom before night fall. Emma groaned a little at the sight of the sunset falling beneath the wickedness of the green foliage.

“Something against the beautiful sky, love?”

Emma let out a sigh as she spoke, “Only that we’re not viewing it from the kingdom.”

Killian nodded his head, put a hand on her shoulder. “Soon enough.” He looked around, wondering where a good place to stop would be. “At the other hand, we should find a place to rest our heads for the night.”

Emma nodded back in reply, shadows darkening her eyes as she begrudgingly picked up her feet.

It wasn’t long before they found a small clearing. There was a dark cave, with a huge log angled to the right of it. They silently agreed that this would be their home for the night.

Emma plopped down on the log, looking around a little helplessly. “I really had hoped we’d make it back sooner.”

“Well, it should brighten your spirits that we should make it there tomorrow.”

Emma smiled back, “You’re right.”

Killian stood dumbfounded for a moment. “Well, then. I’m going to get some wood so we can get a fire going.”

Emma jumped up. “No, wait. Let me do it.”

Killian raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure, lass? It’s no problem at all.”

“In this way, the adventure doesn’t end so early.”

Killian smiled to himself, surprised he didn’t know she’d say that. “Stay close, okay?”

“Aye aye, Captain!” She turned around in a rush, leaving Killian to sit down with his thoughts.

He sat down where she had been, tormented by the thought of Ingrid. He kept going back and forth on whether or not to tell Emma. If he told her, it would only add an element of danger to the ‘adventure.’ Unnecessary. They had the Dark One’s dagger. Didn’t they? Besides, what could Emma possibly do with the information that Ingrid may or may not be following them? Next to nothing. They would still be on this ridiculously long trek towards the kingdom. Nothing would change. He only hoped Emma would understand. It was in her best interests to stay focused. They would arrive at the kingdom tomorrow, and everything would sort itself out. It’s what the Charmings would believe. He felt he had to believe it, too.

Killian let out a soft groan, waiting for Emma to return with the firewood. It seemed that a century passed before she did, shuffling over a few rocks before dropping the pile on the ground in the small center of the clearing. He stood up at her arrival, walking to the wood to start the fire.

They sat together on the log once they had it going, reveling in the heat of the flames. Killian was lost in thought, as usual, and Emma decided to pry him about it.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” She tried raising her eyebrows in the way he would at her.

Killian looked up, surprised she had caught on to him. He didn’t realize when he appeared to have a sign on him that said, something along the lines of, “Beware: Lurking Thoughts.” He was always thinking too deep, letting regret and misery pull on his heartstrings without something to give for it. He gave her a close lipped smile, his eyes revealing what he did not want to give away. “It’s fine, love. Just been a long day.”

Emma scooted closer to him, looking into his eyes intently but speaking softly. “More than a long day,” she said.

Killian just shook his head at her. He looked away, into the orange flames, letting his eyes become addicted to the smoke, the spark of the wood. Emma took the hint, realizing it wasn’t her place—it wasn’t her place at all. She took off her gloves, suddenly feeling too hot. She put them into her satchel, and then searched for a hair tie. She distracted herself momentarily by putting her hair up in a high ponytail, letting a small side braid lead into it. She was startled when Killian said, “Love, can you just settle my mind and see to it that we still have the bloody dagger?”

Emma looked at him for a second, wanting to reply, _Killian, you are acting strange._ With an emphasis on the _strange._ But instead, she reached too quickly into her satchel, searching around before her palm came into contact with the harsh blade. She let out a little cry, saying, “I’d venture to say we still have it,” while removing her hand from the bag.

Killian’s eyes widened when he heard her sharp cry. “Give me your hand.” He stood up reaching deep into one of his pockets.

“I’m a great candidate for the Ogre Wars, don’t you think?”

Killian let out a small chuckle, much to Emma’s surprise, ignoring the question and asking instead, “I already know you don’t, but by chance you got any water or rum in there?”

Emma started to shake her head before remembering, “Actually, while you spent time outside the Snuggly Duckling, I was given a flask.”

Killian raised his eyebrows. Emma answered, “The man with the hook,” in reply, as if she clearly explained how the exchange went down.

She began to reach into the satchel again before Killian stopped her and said, “Allow me, princess.” She rolled her eyes but allowed him all the same.

“Ah.” He grabbed her wrist, pulling her up towards him. “It’s not so bad.” It really wasn’t, but he continued with the dramatic flairs anyway. He opened the flask and quickly poured the contents over her cut, causing her to wince, to which he replied, “Trying to help.”

He dropped the empty flask to the ground much quicker than he could drop his thoughts, and began wrapping the scarf he’d pulled out of his pocket around her hand. He mumbled, “Bloody waste of it,” wishing he’d had the rum earlier. He pulled the scarf between his teeth to tighten her new bandage, refusing to break his eyes from her while he did it. When he was done, he tucked the tail under with his surely talented hands.

Emma had been surveying him with hooded eyes, trying not to let him know her heart picked up speed when he’d pulled the scarf with his teeth. She breathed out a reply of thanks before settling back down on the log with him, feeling too aware of his presence.

They didn’t say anything for a moment. Killian appeared to be drawn back to the flames, and Emma seemed to still be calming herself down. Did he know what he did to her? Probably not. Probably much less than he noticed how often he lost himself in his thoughts. But Emma couldn’t handle it. She began tapping her feet, her boots causing a few pebbles to stumble about.

The noise distracted Killian so much he said, “Love. What.”

“You! You’re what, and you’re freaking me out! What is wrong?”

He took a breath. _Subtlety is not your thing, Jones._ Perhaps he wouldn’t tell her about Ingrid, but there was plenty more he could talk about. “This journey back to the kingdom will be a good thing, Emma. When we get back, you will be reunited with your parents and returned home. But my sole arrival prompts much dire consequences: when I get back, I have to tell Charming, your father, that the rest of our crew is dead.”

“But Killian, you don’t know that.”

He looked at her with knowing eyes and a sad smile. Should he tell her? He shook his head. “It is what my _heart_ tells me, love. In it, there is little room for hope and the demented glory of Fate.”

Emma paused for a second, uncertain of what to say or how to respectfully approach the topic. The last thing she wanted to do was offend him. Her experience was limited—much more than others her age, let alone _his_ —so she had to go with what her heart said. “Killian, you are never going to learn the truth about your brother, let alone find him, if you don’t believe you will. You are in charge of your story here.”

“I appreciate that, love. This isn’t a story, though. Fate has told me that more often than not.”

“Fairytales are only valuable if you see them as a metaphor in your life and the world. You can _choose_ to view the world in this way.” She didn’t tell him to slay his own dragons—she couldn’t possibly begin to imagine the inner demons he was wrestling with. She didn’t want to push it, and she could sense the external restrictions of her tower were much simpler than those he faced within himself.

Killian looked at Emma a long, hard moment. The flames of the campfire were making her hair shine, and he was quite distracted by it. _The only thing I choose right now is you._ But he couldn’t say that, he’d already almost given himself away when they were trapped in the cave. So he just smiled at her. He reached over and squeezed her hand for a moment, not wanting to let go but making himself. He was supposed to be taking care of _her._ And, frankly, he felt bad about it. Emma’s super power allowed her to sense it. “Anything else?” She asked slowly, drawing the words out.

“Emma, love, I don’t know that I can talk about it. Perhaps we can save this for another time?”

She nodded her head, slightly satisfied. She’d gotten a little out of him. She was about to speak, something trivial, when Killian interrupted her thoughts, “Actually, there’s something I want to ask you about.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Did you notice anything strange when we were trapped in the cave?” He tilted his head at her, wondering if she’d catch on to his implication. But she only tilted her head back at him. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t really know how to say this, Emma, but how do you think we got out of the cave?”

"Umm, I don’t know? I didn’t really think about it.” She had been so pumped on adrenaline, the question ceased to amaze her. “Why? What do you think it was?”

He looked at her briefly before letting the words rush out of his mouth, “I think it was you.”

Silence settled over both of them. They looked at each other curiously, letting the crackle of the flames and the chirps of crickets be their melody.

Killian asked her, “What, you don’t think so?”

“I don’t know _how_ so.”

“You were born of _True Love._ What if that means something for you? I saw the sudden anger in your eyes, Emma. I don’t know what else could have made the cave crumble down.” Well, Ingrid most definitely could have. But he remembered the electricity in Emma’s eyes and the way she suddenly dropped his hand. It could have been what he said, but her expression told him something else.

Her eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “I…I don’t know.” She thought back for a moment. “I remember the anger, believe me, I do. But I’ve never, ever done anything like that before. I don’t think it was me. I don’t think that’s who I am.”

Killian looked at her for a moment, wondering if maybe it was Ingrid. Ingrid just trying to get to him. He held in a groan, because was she succeeding.

The flames were dying down now, and Killian knew he needed a rest. “Okay, love. I think we’re going to have to call it a night.”

Emma nodded in agreement, standing with him and preparing a small space around the dying campfire. The cave was still an option, but both seemed more hesitant about it than before, after the short talk of the previous one. They moved a few large rocks and twigs around, but both accepted the fact that they would have to rest in the dirt.

“Alright, love. Good night.”

He looked at her so gently that Emma pulled him into an embrace. She spoke into his ear so she wouldn’t have to use her courage to face him. “Good night, Killian. I am really, really happy you are my guide.” She’d shut her eyes, but when she opened them she thought she saw a sparkling white form beyond. She blinked a few times, assuming it was a combination of fatigue and darkness, because when she looked fully again, the white dazzle was gone.

She was pulled from the daze when Killian pulled away, looking into her eyes, whispering, “Me too, Emma, me too.” They stared at each other briefly, lovingly, before settling into the discomfort of the dirt.

* * *

 

Killian couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned throughout the night, the rocky dirt only part of his problem. He eventually just lay flat on his back to look at the stars. He knew a majority of the constellations from his sea faring days—which felt long ago might he add—but tonight he couldn’t even find Cassiopeia. That was the first constellation he’d ever been able to spot on his own, after a few lessons and tricks from Liam. He’d always remember how it was described to him as an ‘m’ or a ‘w,’ whichever he wished. He could still hear Liam tell him, either way, _it was the chair the queen would sit upon._

He sighed. It seemed all too clear what was happening tonight.

He heard the rustle of dirt, and sat up quickly to check on Emma. She was still sleeping, curled into herself peacefully, using her arms for pillows. He sighed relieved, but realized the moment was short lived when he continued to hear the sounds behind him. He turned, braced himself for what he knew to be the worst: Ingrid.

Her voice rang clear in the forest. It seemed to him that the sweet innocence of it was what made her seem the most threatening. “Lieutenant. Nice to catch you at this hour.”

His jaw clenched and he growled out her name. _Ingrid._

“I see you’ve had time to think about my offer.”

He stood, glaring at her as he advised, “There’s nothing to think about Ingrid. If you really wanted what was best for Emma you would just leave.”

“Silly, pirate. _I am_ what’s best for Emma. I am her mother and the only family she has ever known. Returning her to Snow White and Charming would only hurt the all of them.”

She sent his mind reeling in circles every time she spoke. “Why, then? Why do it at all?”

“Because I wanted a family. Mine was taken away from me before they made me the monster that I am.” Ingrid’s words escaped her lips with much more force than she had anticipated.

Though she’d described herself as a monster, she continued to have no doubts that Emma would grow to love her. She could already imagine days, years into the future when Emma would grow older with her. _They would be like sisters._ She would have smiled had she not been in the presence of the protective lieutenant.

Killian looked at her with sympathy in his eyes. He tried not to, forced himself to reevaluate her as his thoughts scattered: she killed Liam, she killed the crew, she killed everyone and she could kill Emma, too. “Ingrid, you’re the reason I lost my brother. The reason Emma doesn’t know her real parents, let alone the love of a father. Why can’t you see what you’re doing is wrong?”

“Snow White and Prince Charming have always gotten what they wanted. Always. Taking Emma away from them can only be a small part of their happiness.”

“Who are you, the Evil Queen? Ingrid—”

“Do not compare me to her! I will not be defeated like she was!” She took a moment to take a breath before her voice became sweet again. “I offered you a deal, Lieutenant, and it still stands. But this is your last chance to take it.”

He couldn’t believe she was still offering him the deal. She truly had no idea what she was doing. “Tell me one thing, Ingrid. How’d we survive?”

“I told you; you were the only survivor—”

He interrupted, “No. Me and Emma.” He couldn’t help himself. He needed to find out if Emma’s powers were true.

Ingrid gasped, trying to keep her hand from flying up to her mouth, but she couldn’t prevent the alarmed look in her eyes, or her suddenly wavering voice. “You and Emma?”

Killian nodded but received no response from Ingrid. Her powers weren’t as great as he’d presumed. And Emma’s appeared to be greater. Ingrid’s words failed to come to her. She realized she was in trouble.

“Never mind it.” He looked clear into her eyes as he swore, “I refuse to accept your deal, Ingrid. I’ll die before I let you use this bloody deal to get Emma back.”

Ingrid looked at him calmly. “Death can wait.” A mischievous smirk crawled across her face. “If that’s how you want to play, pirate. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She disappeared in her classic swirl of black smoke, leaving Killian prey to himself yet again.

As if the night hadn’t been long enough. It just got a hell of a lot longer.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to update sooner than this, but I could not find my muse anywhere. Then, I was quite distracted as we got to see the captains of our ship being the cuties that they are. But finally!! I can’t even begin to explain the editing process! Enjoy ; )

Emma slept like the infamous Princess Aurora. The dirt was uncomfortable, and every so often she could feel imagined bugs crawling on her arms but, despite it, she slept.

She didn’t need to count sheep to send her mind to a peaceful state—she’d had Killian for that. His intensity always amused her, but she couldn’t help feeling drawn to him, wishing to put out the fire ravaging the forests of his heart. His fiery presence wasn’t enough to drive her away, or scare her off wandering the forests alone.

What she said to him before they both laid down was true: she couldn’t have wished for a better guide. It was pure luck that he’d stumbled upon the castle. She knew Killian would flinch and curse Fate for it, but she was thankful.

And so, she drifted off into a serene sleep.

When Emma woke up, she was twisted in uncomfortable ways. She was still in her recent change of clothes, but she was no longer residing in the forest with Killian. She lifted her head, confused at the feel of cool metal around her wrists, and the smooth of the floor.

She stood up in a quick step, panicking when she realized she couldn’t move. Or rather, she couldn’t move _far_. The short chains that had been placed around her wrists and anchored to the floor prevented her from escaping the room—the room, she could tell, was her tower: the tower Ingrid would curse her with when she found her again.

Grey bricks lined the walls. A sole window stood out, but Emma couldn’t walk far enough to see out of it. The sky was blue and beautiful, but she would never know what greens lay out and beyond, or what kingdom awaited her. She was facing a wooden door, no doubt locked—and without reason, as her chains would never allow her to even touch the rusty door knob.

Her outfit, however, made her feel like she could conquer the world. The crocodile belt around her waist and the boots on her feet had her reeling with the desire to punch something. Or _someone._

But Emma was trapped. She couldn’t punch Ingrid even if she wanted to.

She pulled on the chains and began to scream. She was going to suffocate in this tower.

She wore herself out screaming, and she didn’t know how long she did it. It felt like days passed, though she knew she wouldn’t have survived had it been days. No food or water had been delivered to her.

She eventually collapsed to the ground, and her thoughts quickly replaced the sounds her voice made.

She should never have left her tower. She should never have trusted Killian to guide her. She should never have…anything.

Emma didn’t know what she deserved from life because she never had a chance to really live one. But looking around in the empty tower, she knew she should have felt blessed to live the cursed life of ignorance. She could be happy then. She’d be with Ingrid and she’d never have a chance to leave or go on adventures or find True Love…but she would be blind to the pain.

She knew a life with Ingrid that was happy, once, and she wished for it back. She began to cry, as her helplessness took over her entire being.

It wasn’t until she heard voices outside the door that she perked up and tried to think logically.

She couldn’t tell who it was, at first. It was all muttering and mumbling, but she could definitely determine that it was a man and a woman. She tried to lower the sounds of her breathing until the voices rang true: Ingrid and Killian.

She almost lost it when she thought she heard _Killian._ But she didn’t have time to think about it. She had to focus on what was being said.

The sounds were muffled, the door being no help. She thought she heard Ingrid asking about an offer, and just when she thought she wasn’t going to catch anything else, she heard, very distinctly, “Me and Emma.” Her heart fluttered a bit, and she wanted to kick herself when she lost focus, again.

She didn’t know what Killian meant or why he was referring to the two of them. All she knew was that he was standing outside the door, free, while her freedom had been reclaimed by another. She started shouting at the figures she knew were in reach beyond the door. “Killian, help! Let me out!”

Her voice changed nothing. It was desperate and loud and pleading, filled with regret and sadness, but it had no effect on those outside the door. She sank down to the floor, her imagination filling in the blanks; her imagination created the lines to the sounds outside.

It was without a doubt Killian and Ingrid. And what would Killian and Ingrid be doing together if it wasn’t to work together?

She completely fell apart at the thought, but it set something off in her mind. The wheels were turning faster than ever now, and it all made sense: Ingrid was the Dark One, and her powers must have foreseen that Emma wished to depart; to solve the problem, she sent none other than Killian Jones, a handsome lieutenant she knew Emma would fall hard for, to help her “escape,” with all the intention of leading her back to her in the first place.

Emma’s heart was crushed. She felt she could see Ingrid’s hand around it, the ash slipping through her fingers instantly.

She was never meant to leave and, after this, she never would.

Her tears came quickly know, and she felt she would create a sea, as Alice did, and, being chained down, thus drown. Her cries exemplified her exhaustion so that she fell asleep. Darkness overcame her as she felt herself leaving the voices behind.

When she woke for the second time, it was hot. She felt like she was in an oven, and as she registered the thought, her eyes shot open.

Because she _was_ in an oven.

While she hadn’t been removed from the tower, the chains that held her had been. She stood up, as she took in the source of the heat: the flames surrounding her.

The entire room glowed with the orange fire, and the increasing amount of smoke made it hard for her to breathe. She was relieved to be free from the chains, but she wasn’t entirely liking her new situation.

Her panic caused the smoke to engulf her quicker, or so it seemed, and soon she was cough, cough, coughing until—she couldn’t breathe, her eyes watered and—she was cough, cough, coughing until—

The sweet gift of oxygen was bestowed upon her, and she sat with a start.

Her breathing was labored and heavy, and the fire she’d been sleeping by, which should have been out but wasn’t, glowed like it had hours earlier—in the forest with Killian.

Because that’s where she was: in the forest with Killian. The moon and the stars created light, and she could tell he remained where he had been—only he looked as uncomfortable as she had been in the depth of her nightmare.

She pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them as close to her as she could.

The trees surrounding the clearing hugged her, and she was grateful for the shadows and the stars and the _air_ , because the dream felt so real. She couldn’t deny the fear that now took claim on her heart, because she’d never felt fear like this. The most disturbing part of it was that it could be real. If Ingrid did catch her, she could end up just like that. Because who was she or Killian or anyone that wasn’t Ingrid to say that she would be safe when she reached her parents?

They were all nobodies next to the Dark One.

_Calm down, Emma._

But she couldn’t stop the disruption of her thoughts; it wasn’t only Ingrid. It was also Killian. Emma winced, because how could dear, sweet Killian be capable of such a betrayal? She trusted him. She liked him. She had hopes for him and his brother. A betrayal from Killian would be unbearable.

 _He was her guide._ Emma tried not to be affected by the thought; he was her guide and nothing more; he was fulfilling the duties of a guide and guiding her.

She looked over to him just at the moment he was turning. She almost spoke out. Her mind was in overdrive. A long lasting sigh escaped her lips.

Sleep was necessary and she needed this rest if she was going to complete her journey.

Still, she was reluctant. She laid down and pulled her satchel close to her. Her eyes closed peacefully while her mind raged war. Letting go of the idea of Killian’s betrayal was a difficult one because she didn’t want it to be true.

Emma considered his eyes as he bandaged her palm. She didn’t know a lot, but she did know those eyes wouldn’t cross her the way she’d imagined.

His intensity was one thing. So he had his secrets—she supposed everyone did.

Flinging her thoughts aside was no easy feat—but when she finally did, she didn’t have enough to protect her from the endless traces of Killian that weren’t gone before the end of night.

* * *

 

Killian was drowning in guilt. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t get comfortable. Every so often he felt he couldn’t breathe.

The light of the stars and moon shined down on him, and he wished it would just leave him in complete darkness. The total black of the night would accompany his thoughts well, because the crickets chirping, the flames of the fire that weren’t dying, the occasional call of a bird—nothing could keep him distracted long enough, nothing keep stop the shadows from clouding his mind.

He was astounded that Ingrid came back to him. Asking if handing Emma over to her was as simple as tying a knot. As if it was reasonable. As if she wasn’t the bloody Dark One who kidnapped her, and he wasn’t an honorable lieutenant required to save her.

Killian didn’t think it was in Emma’s best interests to know this information. What could she do with the it? How could they stop her? The truth of the matter was this: they couldn’t. Nothing was going to change Ingrid’s plans. Killian didn’t know what, but something stirred deep within her that seemed permanent. Something ever changing.

And this was how it was all night: reliving the day’s events, and considering his choices. Weighing the options, but always feeling the same. And always: it’s best if Emma doesn’t know.

But was it?

He sighed, he sighed, he sighed all night, until his sighs created a lullaby he could fall asleep to.

* * *

 

The morning light stunned his eyes. He sat up, rising next to the firewood, only to see Emma sitting up and holding the dagger in her hands. When she saw that he had woken up, she smiled and greeted him with a good morning.

He just didn’t know that his morning was going to seem a hell of a lot longer than his night had been.

He gave her a small smile, but was confused to see her intense study of the dagger. “Is everything alright, love?” He tried to hide his knowledge of Ingrid behind the wrinkle of his eyebrows.

Turning the dagger over in her hands, Emma replied, “I suppose I should feel safe that we have this. But I can’t shake this feeling. I never really considered what would happen when we get to the kingdom. I don’t even know what Ingrid is capable of. How are we going to deal with her then?” She paused, running her thumb over Ingrid’s bolded name. “I mean, for all we know she’s followed us.”

It was evident in her voice that she didn’t believe it, and was just considering. There were so many possibilities and she knew the outcome of none of them.

Killian looked at Emma who was thoroughly distracted. She seemed more interested in the dagger now than she had seemed in escaping. His heart sped up as he considered his own possibility, because now would be the time to tell her, if he would. If only he would. “Alas. I think that is a better question for your parents. We will arrive at the kingdom today, and they will know what to do. They always do. Let’s leave the worry to someone else, shall we?”

He tried to smile at her, but Emma could see right through it. It made her nervous. “Okay.”

“Lass, the last thing we need to do is worry. Haven’t we had enough of that? I know _I_ have.” And did he ever. “We’ll reach your parents tonight. Everything is going to be fine.” He stood up and walked over to Emma, who was still in the dirt, the dagger holding her attention. He offered a hand to her and she took it.

She could now see clearly into his stormy, ocean eyes. These eyes had haunted her all night.

They both stood looking at each other a little curiously, a little hesitantly, each having their own secrets and questions.

The dream came back to Emma, and it made her confidence waver; the self-doubt would consume her if she didn’t ask.

“Killian, I…feel silly, asking this. But something’s happened, and I need to know: do you know Ingrid?”

Killian was taken aback, but kept his composure. “Of course, love; she’s the Dark One.” He smiled at her weakly; he wasn’t exactly lying. “Why do you ask?”

Emma looked down, embarrassed. _Why did I even ask?_ “I just had this…dream…that you and Ingrid knew each other.” She laughed awkwardly. “And she asked you about an offer.” She continued her uncomfortable laugh, which was encouraged by Killian’s lack of response. _Why isn’t he saying anything?_ “And it was like you were working together—anyways!” She laughed until she couldn’t because of his expression. “What?”

 _Emma heard and she didn’t even understand the truth._ “Nothing, love. That is just, quite a tale, is all.”

She was about to drop it. She was making no sense, and she was telling Killian, _to his face,_ that she was concerned about his honesty. Which she wasn’t. Until she saw the looks he was giving her. Until he began to resemble a lost puppy. Until moments ago. Emma tilted her head. “Killian?”

“Aye?”

She gave him a look that told him to fess up, but he didn’t. She took a deep breath before rushing out the question to him. “Do you…do you know Ingrid?”

“No, love, why would you say that? Do your super powers extend to your dreams?” His playful joke didn’t match the way he was playing with his hands.

With a startling realization, she stated, “I don’t believe you.” She surveyed him for a moment. “Are you…lying to me?”

“Love, listen to me. We have one concern right now: getting you to your parents."

Surprise registered on her face. “You’re avoiding the question?”

“Aye.” He wiped his forehead. _This is bad. This is very, very bad._ “Perhaps withholding the truth wasn’t a good thing.”

Emma’s widened eyes urged him to continue. “Ingrid approached me at the Snuggly Duckling.”

 _“Ingrid what?!”_ This was a nightmare, an actual living and breathing _nightmare._ Which was worse: the nightmare of the night or the morning?

“She made threats, having obviously followed us there. Love, we have her dagger and we are almost to the kingdom. She can be defeated, I know it.”

“I thought you didn’t have room for hope? How could you not tell me that Ingrid was following us? This is my _life_!”

“Emma, I’m sorry. I was trying to protect you. I don’t know what can be done about it. And we’ve already made it so far. We’ve but a day to go before you are reunited with your parents.” He stepped closer to her, and realized it was the wrong move because she stepped back immediately.

She was looking at the stupid dirt beneath her boots when she confessed, “Killian, I trusted you.”

“Lass, I know. You still can.”

 _Questionable._ “What else haven’t you told me?”

“That is the sole thing.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“Aye.” Truth rang in the single word and pain floated in his eyes. She didn’t want to doubt that he was lying, but still she did.

“There’s something you’re not telling me! I know it, Killian. What is going on?” Her eyes turned to slits.

“That is all.”

Emma whipped the dagger to his neck. “Is that all, now?”

Killian took a breath before speaking and closed his eyes as he said her name. “Emma. What are you doing?”

Bitter sarcasm and sass took over her voice. “Actually, Jones, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m wandering about trying to find a kingdom, with a stranger. I’m pretty sure if I’d grown up with my real parents they would have told me to stay away from strangers.”

Killian rolled his eyes. “Aye, you are right. But maybe you should try something new: trust.”

The dagger wavered slightly. “I am and have been _trying_.” She looked at him. “But I can tell you’re holding something back. I need to know what and why if I am supposed to _trust_ you. You already lied to me about Ingrid.”

“Love, anything I don’t tell you is for your protection.”

Emma stiffened. “So I was right.”

“Emma, listen to me. I am helping you find your way to the kingdom. You have Ingrid’s dagger. If I do recall correctly, _you_ asked for _my_ assistance.”

“People make mistakes.”

“Please trust me, Emma. This is for your benefit. You know everything you need to know. I don’t quite see the problem.” Except he did see the problem. _Tick tock, tick tock._

“The problem is that I…” Emma lowered the dagger, but didn’t release her eyes from his; they were oceans and she was drowning; the sincerity in his voice was a merman’s song, beckoning her deeper into the waves. She could sense the rapid beat of his heart as it pleaded with her. She almost wanted to apologize, and to forget this whole thing had happened. But she had a super power and she believed it. She took a step back, struggling to balance her options.

Killian’s eyes widened in short surprise, and Emma could see the nerves dancing behind them. He lifted his hands up in front of him, as if to say, _I surrender; I’m the lieutenant and I need you to trust that I’m doing the honorable thing; do with me what you will, but trust me._

She looked down, the weight of her feet shifting back and forth. She could feel it too: tick tock, tick tock. “I know you’re a good person, Killian.” She looked up shyly. “But, I…I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you.” She ran her thumb over the scarf wrapped around her hand, ran her thoughts over the memory. She groaned at the two opposing feelings in the pit of her stomach.

“What is your super power telling you?”

Emma looked at him sadly. “It doesn’t matter. It’s what my heart is telling me.”

He had to stop her.He didn’t know what she was going to do. He just had to rid the option from her. “She wanted to make a bloody deal.”

Emma froze at his confession. “She made you an offer? For me?”

Killian nodded, both upset and relieved. They could move past the misunderstanding. He could tell her he refused. He could tell her that he—but he couldn’t tell her, because the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place for Emma.

Remnants of her dream came floating back to her: the voices behind the door, the offer, Killian and Ingrid.

Because it was no dream; it was the truth. And the truth of the matter was that this was not the only time Ingrid and Killian had met. The Snuggly Duckling was one thing, but last night was another. She felt heat rise in her hands. Emma’s exterior was calm. Her feelings about Killian hadn’t changed. She believed he was an honorable lieutenant, he’d shown her.

But the fear of the night and the worry of pain forced her to build a wall.

Emma looked at Killian; he looked relieved. He was looking at her hopefully, and she could only imagine what expression she was returning.

She felt the cold metal chains fight the heat of the flames in her hands; she heard the voices behind the door, menacing her. And she knew: the risk was too great. She was still learning about the truth of the world. The mean, scary thugs inside the Snuggly Duckling taught her one thing—but what did she know of herself? And what did that leave her with to properly judge Killian?

She reached down to pick up her satchel so she could drop the dagger in. She put the strap on her arm as she fumbled within the bag. He watched her curiously as Emma’s hand came around a cool, rounded object. “I’m sorry, Killian, but I can’t risk being wrong about you.”

“Wha—” And with that, he fell to the ground as the weight of the compass and the strength of her arm met his head.

* * *

 

Emma stared at what she had done.

Killian had fallen to the ground, face first into the dirt. She was actually surprised she’d knocked him out, because she really didn’t want to. She felt depressed looking at him, and decided to turn him over, his handsome face now looking towards the sun, his hands over his heart. Little did Emma know that her mother had been in this position—just under different circumstances.

Little did Emma know a lot of things.

She took a breath. She needed a minute to evaluate the situation. Hell, more than a minute, but a minute was all she had.

 _Okay. Okay._ There was no turning back from this.

She couldn’t trust him. Her super power had side effects when she was testing this man, and she didn’t want to find out it’d been the cause of a mistake. His confession that Ingrid had made an offer was enough for her to leave. Her freedom wasn’t worth the risk. Twenty-one years, she had waited for this and she wasn’t about to let it go just because the handsome lieutenant stirred butterflies in her stomach. She had to make it back to the kingdom, with or without a guide—with or without _him._

Emma sighed. She figured she could find her way to the kingdom from here alone. As soon as she got out of the woods, there should be a straight path there. Killian had mentioned it at one point: a direct path, something about a bridge, and then the gorgeous sea. When he spoke of the sea she saw a light illuminate his eyes. She knew it meant something to him, she just didn’t know what.

She glanced at Killian, again. She knew the force she’d used on him wasn’t enough to keep him down forever. So, she looked at him wistfully one last time. She’d about taken a step when she decided to bid him farewell—with her lips on his forehead. _The only one who saves me is me._

Then she was gone.

* * *

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this up last night, and it took on a life of its own that I didn’t expect. I had Falling Slowly (from Once the musical) on repeat, and just let it push me through it. Hope you enjoy : )

When Killian came to, he groaned. _Bloody hell._ Nothing could beat the surprise of that. Of all the possible scenarios he’d gone through, he never considered Emma to leave him there to perish. Okay, so he wasn’t going to _perish._ But she did abandon him with probably less than a clue as to what she was doing.

He sat up, rubbed his temple, and shook his head. This wasn’t the first time a woman hadn’t trusted him. He couldn’t help that he’d let the past get ahead of him, but it did because he was none other than Killian Jones—trying to make up for his mistakes, always.

This was something that came creeping in on him at peculiar times in particular manners on days he wished would end sooner than they would. His grief overcame him in waves. He didn’t break when Ingrid had threatened him as Liam, but he was breaking now—now that Emma abandoned him.

He sighed, and rather than to try to push his thoughts away, or figure out a plan to catch up to Emma and make it back to the kingdom, he just rested. He needed to rest his mind, and he was in no emotional state to pick up and go.

He let himself fall back onto the ground, wincing at a small rock that poked his back. He looked up at the sun and the blue sky, and it pulled him back into the relentless waves of the ocean…

Killian grew up in the kingdom, under the power of Snow White and Prince Charming. He’d never known the rule of anyone else, and was thankful for it. He’d heard the many stories of Regina, the Evil Queen, and her attempts to steal the throne from Snow White. He heard scary stories from boys who’d describe Regina in monstrous ways, in ways not even possible, as they spoke of how she’d kill everyone in every village until she had Snow White’s head. Killian had been too young at the time to know the weight of the stories could be true—the weight of Regina’s actions at least. He didn’t have time to be scared, and Regina’s quick defeat by the King and Queen didn’t permit it.

When Liam convinced him to join the Royal Navy, he was leaving a life behind to start a new one. Liam had once said it would bring glory to them, the kingdom, everyone. And maybe it would, one day. It didn’t matter. He quickly realized all he needed was his brother and the ocean.

It was with these thoughts that the forest began to plague him, doing wonders to his heart.

* * *

 

The forest was deeper than she expected. Emma felt she had been keeping up a good pace, but continually questioned it as she passed through a monotonous amount of trees and bushes and nothing at all that resembled a path way to the kingdom.

She was actually holding herself together really well.

She hated leaving Killian behind, because, well, it was _Killian._

But the truth of the matter was that she couldn’t trust him. Her dream and his confession collided—and Emma wasn’t ready for her dream and reality to collide.

While Killian admitted to seeing Ingrid at the Snuggly Duckling, he said nothing about the night; it was a night Emma was convinced he had spent with Ingrid—whether he wanted to or not was another story, because all she could hear were their voices behind a door, as metal chains ate at her wrists and flames devoured her.

She wasn’t prepared for the newfound freedom she’d found in life to take on this new nightmarish quality.

She wasn’t prepared for a lot of things. It was understandable, though. The interaction she had on her escape from her tower was more than she had in her entire life; the events of one day somehow surpassed the events of twenty-one years. She was young and naïve and thirsty for adventure; she was desperate for a place to call home and longing for the comfort a particular set of arms gave her.

She was going off her instincts that, for the first time in her life, were conflicting.

She couldn’t begin to point out why they were conflicting so; well, she most certainly could, but she would never know which to trust—and that was more than enough reason not to over analyze the situation and continue on the journey alone.

A sigh escaped her lips as she stepped over a few rocks. This trek was different without Killian. Though they never said much, his presence was enough to keep her calm and motivated.

Because she was worried about meeting her parents.

She had more than enough questions for them. The most haunting one pondered how it was possible that a lost lieutenant could find her tower before they could.

She was starting to believe she wasn’t wanted. Because, how much could her parents love her for them not to have found her yet? Killian finding her by fate or chance or luck was not suiting her at the moment. It probably wouldn’t suit her at any moment ever.

Nothing made sense, and she knew, even when she set foot into the kingdom, her parents wouldn’t be the first she’d visit.

She wanted to explore.

What was it really like there? What kind of people and activities and food and joy could be found there that would never reach her tower? She supposed the kingdom breathed of all the things her books couldn’t bring to life.

Emma’s walking slowed as she thought about her books, and as she remembered: she brought a map with her. She stopped to pull it out of her satchel. She’d grabbed it at the last minute, and she wasn’t even sure what it meant—if it was even pertinent to the kingdom she was visiting. Nonetheless, she’d felt her hand reach out for it on the shelf and stuff it into the bag.

Pulling it out now, she could see it was wrinkled and faded, something she hadn’t considered when initially grabbing it. She studied it a little, noticing there were markings representing a palace, a hut in the middle of the woods, and, very prominently, a few stars marked for the official ice man.

For a moment she wondered if the hut in the woods was representative of the Snuggly Duckling, but she figured it probably would have said that. She looked at the top of the map, ignoring the marked village and ocean, to see that it said Arendelle at the top, in big, fancy lettering.

_Huh. Arendelle._

The map was overall no help, and she hesitantly put it back in her satchel, picked up her pace, and wished she was out of the woods already.

* * *

 

He needed to get out of the woods.

Killian hadn’t been sitting long but he figured it’d been long enough. He needed to get to the kingdom. He had faith that Emma would make it back on her own. She’d hit the path to the kingdom almost as soon as the forest ended.

It was simple, really. He wouldn’t be surprised if she ran into one of the dwarves on her way.

Killian stood up and shook off his nerves. If only he was out of his blasted uniform—that would make everything so much easier.

He’d been wearing it for days, and what once reminded him of honor reminded him of the cruelties of Fate. It wasn’t only about Milah anymore; it was also about Liam. And now, if he pushed it, it was about Emma.

The thing seemed to be cursed.

He thought about his first years in the Royal Navy with his brother. Liam always inspired him and taught him many lessons in life. If only he’d allowed him to teach him the most important one. _But aye, leave it to Fate to punch you in the face._

The thought made Killian stop walking, and he had to force himself to pick up his feet again. If he continued like this, he would never make it. He created a chant in his mind, marching his feet right along to it.

Where was he? Right: leave it to Fate to punch you in the face.

He wore the uniform for the first time when he was twenty-one. Putting it on for the first time was an experience he’d always remember.

The navy blue jacket felt too heavy. The hat was a nuisance. The gold buttons angered him, and didn’t represent the black he felt growing in his heart. The cream of his shirt and pants made him look more innocent than he was, the gold collar more righteous. The only thing that was familiar to him were the black boots.

He looked at Liam, his expression in the mirror not communicating to him enough the displeasure of the outfit.

“I don’t know about this, Liam,” he said. “This doesn’t… it’s not…I think…”

Liam shook his head and put a hand on Killian’s shoulder. “Nonsense, brother. You look dashing. You’re acting like the Dark One transformed you into some monster.”

Killian frowned. He was devilishly handsome. He’d been known to admit it once or twice.

 

Only it didn’t matter to him now. Nothing mattered to him now. In fact, it was exactly why Liam was persuading him to join the Royal Navy.

Killian sighed. “Liam, it’s a generous offer, but I don’t think I can do it.”

“What’s the harm, Killian? It’s not like you’ll be Lieutenant just yet. Just join me, and we’ll have you working with the crew. It’s something you’re very capable of. You’re not new to the sea, and you’ll learn quickly.”

Killian looked at himself in the mirror again. There was no feigning a smile. Liam was gullible, but he could tell when Killian was faking.

Liam sighed, giving up the moment. “Killian, fine. Just think about it. It’d be better than doing what you’re doing now.”

Killian was left alone with his reflection. It was his turn to sigh.

What Liam said was true. He needed to pick up and move on with his life. What had happened was over. It was done. There was nothing he could do about it, and sulking wouldn’t be doing any honor to memory.

He shrugged out of the uniform. He’d think about it.

He came out of the small bathroom to find the rest of the small home empty, and he set his uniform over the wooden dining table. He saw the front door was open a crack and followed it out, knowing his brother would be sitting outside, looking at the stars.

“Hello, brother,” Liam greeted him. He was always so eager with his words.

“Hi, Liam,” Killian replied, quietly. He sat down on the steps next to him, looking up into the dark night. “Looking for anything, tonight?”

“No,” Liam smiled. “Just admiring.”

Liam always admired the night sky. The stars were beautiful, and the lack of lights in the Kingdom of Corona made it all the better for their shine. Killian immediately began looking for Cassiopeia. His brother knew instantly. “Found it yet?” he asked.

Killian chuckled. “Aye.”

“What it’d be to have this every night.”

Killian turned to look at Liam quizzically, but Liam continued. “Out on the open sea, breathing in the salty air. Completing deeds for the King!”

“Liam…” “Killian, do this for me. It’s not as if you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

Killian just looked down. The stars were suddenly too bright for him. He wanted a drink.

He looked at the quirky cottages across the road. They were lightly colored, with browns and whites and pink flowers trailing the doorways. A few had a festival of purple flags with white suns trailing the yard.

Neither brother said anything for a moment. It was only when a couple walked the road in front of them that Killian stood up. “I should rest,” he said.

“No doubt.” Liam was standing now. “You need rest from _this_ , Killian. Do you see what you’re doing, _right now?”_

“It doesn’t matter, Liam.”

“Except that it does. You can take control of your life again. You’re doing it in all the wrong ways.”

Liam gestured towards Killian’s attire. It was completely black, mostly composed of leather. He resembled a pirate more than anything. Liam was still in his uniform, the golden caps on his shoulder denoting his role as Captain.

“Your point brother?” He didn’t sass Liam much, but when he did, he went all out. “Who are you, my _father?”_ He spit the word out. It was bitter in his mouth.

“You know very well that I’m right.” He paused before saying his next words as gently as he could. “Is this what Milah would have wanted for you?”

“It’s not about what anybody wants. She had no choice.”

“But you do, Killian. You do. Which is why you should join me! The sea will do you good. Get some fresh air in your lungs. Remember _Milah.”_

“You think I don’t remember Milah? I remember Milah. I relive the day she died every single day, Liam. Don’t tell me what I need to remember.” His eyes were blazing, and if it were possible for smoke to escape his ears, it would have.

“Remembering her death isn’t remembering Milah. You have to forgive yourself, and move on. Remember moments you had laughing and loving. Brother, this is not what life is for! Embrace life!”

“Life? I know no ‘Life.’” He stopped, the anger quenching the fire of his voice momentarily. When he was able to speak again, he could only say, “It seems Fate has other plans.”

“You need to have _faith,_ Killian. What happened with Milah was tragic, unjust, and wrong. But that doesn’t mean you have to live your life like it will always be so.”

Killian didn’t have anything to say. He simply nodded to his brother and went inside.

Liam didn’t follow. He wondered if he had been too harsh, if he had pushed too much. He didn’t know, and he never would. He was just trying to help his brother.

His brother was currently tripping over rocks. He was muttering, trying to avoid the bloody pieces of nature that seemed so determined to trip him. He could hear his brother speaking in his ear. _You need to have faith, Killian._

He wanted so badly to stop and sulk. But he knew in this moment Liam was right. He had been back then, and if he was standing with Killian now, he would say the same thing.

Besides. How else was he going to reach Emma?

* * *

 

Emma was stumbling just as much as Killian: stumbling over rocks, over her own thoughts.

But at last! She was almost out of the woods! Her breath quickened as she practically ran through the remaining forest, her face beaming when her boots kissed the dirt path.

She could see a bridge not far from here, and the sun made the ocean on either side shimmer. Someone was near it, too. She could tell from the white sparkle of her dress.

Perhaps she could guide her to the best place for a cheese sandwich. They were her favorite and she was starving.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

What a beautiful dress! Emma could see it sparkling from what seemed like a mile away. Perhaps there would be a ball tonight!

Emma sighed, happily. Potential was everywhere, now that she was finally stripped free of the chains to her tower—and now that it seemed she would never have to worry about it again.

She continued walking, approaching the bridge with more force than she intended. It wasn’t long until she was looking over the edge, peering at the ocean. She brushed away guilt and thoughts of Killian. She needed to do this without him.

When she reached the form in front of her, she paused. The woman was facing away, her hair in a tight bun, strumming her fingers along the railing. It took Emma a moment to place what was familiar, until she noticed the large ring on the woman’s finger. It was a large snowflake that glinted in the sun. The blue sparkles brought her back to Ingrid’s room, back to all the mirrors, the blue of the walls, the scattered snow stars. _This isn’t happening._

Except it was.

Ingrid turned around and smiled sweetly. “Emma, I am so happy to see you.”

She stiffened. “I don’t think I can say the same.”

“Emma, I can explain.”

“Explain what? How you kidnapped me? How you aren’t even my real mother?”

She couldn’t even look at her anymore. She let her eyes trail up the bridge, seeing the beginnings of the kingdom. The village awaited her. Impatiently.

“Of course I’m your mother, Emma. I’m the one who raised you. It doesn’t take blood to make a family.” Ingrid took a step closer. Emma responded by whipping the dagger out of her satchel.

“I know your little secret, Ingrid. Don’t think I won’t use this on you.”

Ingrid laughed, unthreatened. “And what exactly are you going to use that for?”

Emma didn’t say anything. She just held the dagger out in front of her, protectively. She wasn’t going back to her tower, and she certainly wasn’t going to let Ingrid stop her when she was so close to the kingdom. To permanent freedom.

“Emma, I know you won’t use that on me. I am still like a mother to you.”

“How exactly did you conclude that? You took my life away from me. What did you think of all my days in the tower, begging to just go _outside?_ Why did you have to use a _cloaking spell?_ You were _never_ protecting me.” She looked down. “I’ve always been for your own use.”

“Emma that’s not true. I love you. We’ve had great times together. _As a family.”_

“You tore me apart from my family.”

“I did it with reason, Emma. I know you don’t understand right now, but one day you will.”

“I will never understand you.” “Why don’t we go back home and talk about this, Emma?”

“Home? You call that a _home?_ I’d miss that dreaded place if it was home. There’s nothing that will make me go back there ever again.”

Ingrid sighed. She was unbelievably patient, convinced she had a right to her “daughter.”

“Where do you want home to be then, Emma? I can take you anywhere you like.” She paused, trying to gather Emma’s fleeting patience. “We can cross realms.”

“Cross realms? With you? No thanks, lady.”

“Emma, don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re _crazy.”_

Emma’s anger had spiraled. It was in her voice, her eyes, the grip of her hand. She almost wanted to question why Ingrid was being so patient with her. It was so odd that she suddenly felt the dagger was unnecessary. She tucked it back into her satchel and walked over to Ingrid, so that she was leaning on the railing of the bridge.

She didn’t question whether or not Ingrid loved her. She knew she did. And Emma knew she loved her at one point too.

She could remember days as a child, with Ingrid teaching her to read and to draw. Ingrid went to great lengths to keep her happy—in the tower at least. She never abused her, never made her question her love for her. Though her demands never seemed to add up, the love had seemed unquestionable.

It didn’t mean that she was going to eat up everything she said, but it didn’t make her wonder any less.

“Ingrid, why would you do that to me?”

“Emma, I did it for _us.”_

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question.” She looked out onto the water: a bleak and terrible reminder. She hated to ask it. “Did you have anything to do with the Royal Navy?”

“What do you mean?”

Emma turned to face her. “I was with a lieutenant. He said he was the only survivor of a shipwreck.” She began to study Ingrid’s eyes intensely. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

“So what if I did, Emma? They were going to take you away from me. And they were going to use me as a solution to their own problems.”

 _Oh, sort of how you used me?_ But she couldn’t even say it, as the next realization hit her hard. “You’re the reason Killian’s brother is dead.” She took a step back. “You’re a murderer.”

To that, Ingrid actually cringed. It affected her entire composure, and she struggled to maintain a neutral expression. This was something she would have believed anyways, whether or not she let the crew of the Royal Navy live.

“Nobody’s perfect, Emma.”

The confession was too much for her to handle. She needed to get out of here. “I need to go.”

“Before you do, before you go into the kingdom, I need to show you something.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to see it.”

Ingrid gave her a sad smile. “The thing is, I think you will, Emma. It’s about Snow and Charming.”

“What about them?”

“They may not accept you into their lives as quickly as you may think.” Ingrid nodded to the ocean. “Look down, Emma.”

She did, and was presented with a scene, no doubt from Ingrid’s powers of the Dark One.

She saw first who she supposed were her parents, and she let out a little gasp. They were beautiful, and suddenly seemed more real than she could have ever imagined.

Snow and Charming were embracing each other. Charming was kissing the top of Snow’s hair, as tears spilled down her cheeks. When they stopped, Snow put a hand to her stomach, looking down longingly. Charming’s hand quickly went over hers, and it all became very apparent what was happening.

They kissed before departing the room, arriving at a crib with much excitement. Crystal unicorns hung from the top of the crib, and Emma felt her stomach drop as her parents reached for them, running their fingers over the sparkling glass.

They were pregnant.

Emma looked up at Ingrid. “That’s not real.”

“I’m afraid it is, Emma.”

“That doesn’t mean they won’t take me back.” Her voice wavered, and she feared Ingrid would catch on to it.

“They could very well take you back. But is that what you want? To be greeted with a baby brother? You’ll be pushed aside. Unwanted.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“I highly doubt that, Emma.” She moved towards her. “Besides, I’m your mother and I know what’s best for you.”

Emma groaned. She was so tired of people trying to make her decisions for her. “Do you really think that’s going to work on me? I left Killian for withholding the truth for what was best for me, and he’s nowhere near as dark as you.”

“My title as the Dark One doesn’t mean I am truly incapable of love, Emma.”

“I don’t think you know what love is.”

She looked at Emma full of pity. “And I suppose you do?”

Emma blushed, full of embarrassment and anger. She wasn’t going to deny her feelings for Killian but she wasn’t going to voice them either. She just stared at Ingrid with her mouth set in a thin line. She was ready to turn around. She’d heard enough.

“Oh, Emma, don’t be so naïve. Do you really think he likes you—that he’s _impressed?_ Emma, please.”

Emma didn’t respond. Because, at the moment, she was more impressed with Killian than she was with anything else. “I liked him, Ingrid. He was my friend.”

“What do you think the King and Queen will give to the man who delivers their princess to them, Emma?”

Her anger flared up again. “Whatever it is, he wouldn’t accept it. All he cares about is the brother he lost—the brother you _killed!”_

And just like that, Emma’s hands were glowing with power. She looked down, terrified. “What the hell. Ingrid, what the hell is happening?”

Ingrid smiled, not even trying to conceal her excitement. “It seems you’re on the edge of a marvelous breakthrough, Emma. I didn’t know you’d be born with such power. But this makes us so much more similar than you think.”

Ingrid looked up at the bridge, just in time, to see a carriage passing through. _Perfect._ It would arrive in moments. Emma was still staring at her hands, and wouldn’t notice a thing. She’d have to act instinctively. It would be the best way to test it, if what Killian had suggested was true.

She looked up eagerly, ready to hear the plan on how to terminate the magic emanating from her hands. “How do I stop this?”

The carriage was getting closer, the sounds of the horses hooves becoming more apparent.

“Emma, stop the carriage.”

“What?”

“I said, stop the carriage. You can do this.”

Emma turned away from Ingrid, bewildered when she saw it and understood what she was suggesting. Her eyes widened, and she turned to Ingrid again in pure shock. “I have no idea—”

But it was too late, because she was pushed in the midst of the road. She screamed as the rustle of the hooves and the rolling wheels flooded her senses. She rolled out of the way, to the other side of the bridge as she felt something within her hands.

The horses stumbled, slightly, as if meeting a rock, but continued going, the bustle doing essentially nothing. When it passed, Emma stood up. Her hands were shaking. The light was dimming, but it was still there. “What the hell! What is wrong with you?!”

Ingrid crossed the street to Emma. “I’m so sorry, Emma. I thought you were ready—I made a mistake.”

“Ready for what? To be killed? Ingrid, you are in no way helping your case.”

“Can you at least call me Mother, Emma?” She asked quietly, trying not to allow her hope to consume the question.

"The only thing I’m going to be calling you, is Crazy. I’m _leaving.”_

And Ingrid let her.

She watched as Emma departed, walking up the bridge and making her way closer to the kingdom. She would come back for her. And if she didn’t, she was certain Emma would come back to her.

* * *

 

She needed a cheese sandwich. Pronto. Or a nap. Or Killian. Or maybe all of the above.

She was too tired to figure out what the hell was happening to her. She was just relived Ingrid let her go, even though she sensed it wouldn’t be the last she was seeing of her.

She sighed, walking up the bridge. The emerging cottages weren’t even enough to make her smile. The people she was finally seeing walking at the top of the bridge weren’t helping her mood at all. She was completely done. She sat down when she reached flat ground, emotionally drained.

She didn’t want to think about Ingrid, or her parents, or the baby. She felt like she didn’t belong in her tower her entire life, and she was beginning to believe she didn’t belong in her own kingdom.

What was worse was that she didn’t feel at home in her own skin. She didn’t know she was capable of magic, and never would have guessed.

Killian did, though. He seemed to know her better than she knew herself. If he had told her about Ingrid, she probably would have been overwhelmed. It would have been nice to know, but it most definitely would have hindered her confidence in the journey.

Kind of like how her confidence was hindered now.

She suddenly wasn’t hungry. She felt responsible.

The reason Killian’s brother and crew were dead was because of her. She was in no way capable of stopping it—but Ingrid killed them to protect _her._ It was a punch to the gut, especially all the talk she gave Killian about having hope.

Anything that seemed too good to be true, must be so. Because all she could think was that, right now, she gave Killian false hope. And so it seemed: not having a happy ending was painful enough, but giving someone false hope was far worse.

She stood up, brushing off her pants.

She had to find Killian.

* * *

 

Snow and Charming stood at the crib, admiring the dangling unicorns.

It was once meant for Emma, but now they would be welcoming someone new into their family.

Snow dropped the unicorn she was holding, suddenly ridden with guilt. “What if this is wrong?”

Charming grabbed her hand, spinning her towards him. “What are you talking about?”

It was hard for her to say the words, but her husband’s eyes gave her confidence. “Do you still believe Emma will come home to us? Do you believe what Grumpy told us?”

“Of course, I do. I believe it as I believed in you, through all our trials with Regina. Snow, this is a good thing.”

“Emma is going to come home to us to find another child. What is she going to think?”

He took a moment to answer. “Honestly, I don’t know.” He shook his head as his hands found their way to hers. “We have a second chance at raising a child; we should embrace it. We aren’t replacing Emma, and we still believe she will return to us. This happened because we are in love.” He smiled at her gently, before giving her a kiss.

Snow’s eyes watered. “It still feels…this crib was meant for Emma. And while I am so happy, and so _grateful_ to be with you, I can’t help…”

“Snow, it’s okay.” He gave her another encouraging smile. “She’ll understand.”

She pulled him into her arms, her voice barely loud enough for him to hear, “I can only hope so.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG UPDATE! My classes are finally under control and my muse is back—not to mention Once, that helps too ; )

Emma found herself tumbling through the forest again, her disjointed thoughts mingling with her stumbling feet, leaving her an unbalanced, unstable mess. Never would she have guessed that she’d turn from the kingdom so quickly. She didn’t expect to find Ingrid there, even though she knew she’d eventually learn of her escape.

She sighed. It seemed she was doing that all too much.

But it didn’t matter now, because she had something new to focus on: finding Killian. Who knew where he would be, but she still found herself retracing hers steps to where she’d left him—lying in the dirt after hitting him in the head with her compass.

It was a less than pleasant memory that made her cringe, and she could only hope that he’d forgive her.

She paused, glancing down at her hands. The glow had diminished as soon as her emotions had calmed, but she knew he would now have reason to fear her—she found herself fearing herself.

Her thoughts were disrupted when she heard a heavy something just ahead. She couldn’t tell what—it sounded like heavy breathing but a gust of wind; like someone running towards her and yet a snow monster. Regardless, she stopped, her response too slow to consider it further or grab the dagger for protection.

Despite it all, she found herself running forward when she recognized the blue and gold of the uniform, and the heavy black boots gracing the ground.

“Killian!”

He was holding his jacket in his hands, a cream shirt embracing his chest. She ran towards him wishing to hug him but couldn’t; her inner fears and the way he held his jacket in his hands prevented her from doing so.

Killian looked up from his trance with the ground, blinking a few times when he saw Emma. He groaned, wondering how he’d gotten so low as to hallucinate.

When she approached him, she rushed, “Killian, I am so sorry. I should have trusted you.”

Killian just looked at her, unable to comprehend the reality of the situation. He had worked so hard to turn his life around and become a better man—and the second it went to shambles, he became a new form of delirious.

Neither made a move towards the other, Killian from disbelief and Emma from fear. It took a moment for Emma to say in a quiet voice, “I shouldn’t have turned on you so quickly, I’m sorry.”

Killian looked at Emma—he seemed to look right through her. He shook his head before walking right past her.

Emma knew what she did was drastic—especially because he had been trying to be truthful with her. She groaned, frustrated she couldn’t see the best in him, when clearly, he saw it in her.

Until now. Until she ruined it.

She watched him stumble away, the jacket swinging lightly in his arms, and his steps slow. She stood stupidly for a moment, staring at the rocks on the ground and the green leaves of the trees. She was ready to give up.

But she refused.

Emma took a breath, unsure what she was going to do next—she was only sure that she wanted to stop him. She turned and reached after him, grabbing his free arm and pulling him near. They locked eyes, each incredibly focused, each with opposing tasks; Killian was ready to rid of this enchantress—she was worse than the Lady of the Lake, but somehow so much more real. She was just as stubborn as Emma, and he supposed it was because she lured men to their deaths through their weakness and desires. He hadn’t felt this weak in a long time.

He spoke through gritted teeth. “Be gone, Witch.”

"Witch? Killian, I’m no Dark One. That’s Ingrid, remember?”

He rolled his eyes, believing he had fallen for some trick. He licked his lips, gathering his patience. He wanted to kiss this vision but wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t even want such temporary bliss.

Emma kept her tight grip on his arm, unable to believe what was happening. She knew he was intense. Hell, she knew he was the epitome of that definition—and she’d hardly been exposed to the real world. She just didn’t understand how he was coming to such conclusions.

She didn’t know him as well as she thought.

“I know what you’re doing, Witch. You’re using Emma to get to me but it’s not going to bloody work.” His eyes turned to slits. “I’m not who I was. I’m not the man I was with Milah. You won’t win this.”

Emma flinched, his anger touching the deepest parts of her soul. She’d never seen this side of him, so convinced, so unbelieving, so unflinching.

It was a change. Killian had been wandering the forest. He’d had a momentary realization—he’d remembered his brother, his reason for life—but it was fleeting. He felt the false hope. The memory of his Liam lightened his heart, but as he walked towards the kingdom, his boots gained weight, his jacket became too hot. The trees were attacking him and he couldn’t breathe.

He’d tried to relax; he removed the jacket, reflected more on Liam and what he would want Killian to do. But all the more he was reminded of his false hope. He didn’t blame Emma. He couldn’t. He had only himself to blame for thinking his brother would come back to him. He had only himself for convincing the idea that hiding the truth was good and honorable.

He had only himself.

When Emma stumbled through the forest voicing his name, he couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t real—it couldn’t be. His initial hopes for his brother’s life were false; how could this be any different? Emma wandered to him, slightly awkward. She said his name but he didn’t hear it. The concern and wonder in her voice were no match for the war in his mind. She was a deception, an enchantress.

He’d only heard the many myths of the Lady of the Lake but he believed them.

And now he was one of her victims.

The grip on his arm told him so, the apologies. The desperation in eyes and voice could only be that of her. Emma didn’t want him. She’d knocked him out. Not to mention that he didn’t feel deserving of her.

Emma stared at him long and hard. Her grip on his arm loosened, and she was about to let him go. She didn’t want to, but she didn’t seem to have a choice. Her fingers began to relax, despite the contradictions she felt in her heart. The two were still staring at each other as she took a step back.

She surveyed his messy hair, and his stormy ocean eyes. His tortured look only attracted her more, and she wished she could make whatever it was bothering him go away. At the moment, it seemed to be herself. She took a breath and was about to give in, when she turned into a character from one of her books.

Her eyes had been preoccupied with his lips for a few moments, not wanting to leave unsatisfied. She looked down, her boots lightly kicking at the dirt before she thought, _to hell with it._

She closed the space between them with one quick step and grabbed his shirt, as her lips found his.

It began as such a soft kiss. She wanted him and knew of no other way to bring him back to her. She needed this before she left. It felt unreal, and her disappointment quickly fueled her passion. Emma knew he was a good man. When she left him, she’d been in chapter two of her story; now, embracing all the opportunity she could in chapter three, she knew he was the prince.

He didn’t immediately respond. His initial thoughts were taken over by shock. His jacket slipped from his hand, and he froze for a second, hands floating. But he knew it was Emma when he felt the spark. His hands found the small of the back and her golden hair, and he was soon moved by desire as much as she was. Emma was soon pulling him at the collar of his shirt, and he was soon battling for dominance, the kiss ending only when they needed to breathe in the air.

Their foreheads found one another, the air between them shared with contentment.

 _Did you miss me?_ Emma wanted to voice it, but her heart was racing and her breaths were uneven so that Killian was the first to speak. “I’m sorry, love.”

Emma smirked but didn’t move. A gentle and soft sarcasm took her voice. “For hitting me over the head with a compass?” She released him only so she could look at him. She raised her eyebrows. Not that she regretted a second, but perhaps he couldn’t handle it.

He was out of breath, heart racing. “That was…”

 _Amazing? Perfect? Something that should have happened after he bandaged her hand?_ Emma tried not to look at him too hopefully. His eyes were suddenly filled with shame. “A one-time thing.”

Emma watched his expression carefully as she saw his descent into another world, another time.

He’d been with Milah for a few months, but it felt longer. He believed she was his True Love.

He’d run into her in a tavern one late night. He was working in the village as a fisherman and had come back late one evening. His body was exhausted, but Liam had convinced him to take some time for himself before going home and to bed for a repeat of the long cycle in the morning.

“You’re too hard on yourself, brother,” Liam had said. “Enjoy yourself for a change.”

Liam had been training for the Royal Navy, while Killian spent long days and even longer nights steering, fishing and selling. It was a job that had little rewards.

Regardless, he took it upon himself to follow Liam’s advice. He ordered a simple drink, sitting at the bar with his head in his hands. A woman approached him, but didn’t say anything until he lifted his head to her presence. Her dark hair and eyes spoke a mystery to him, and she was beautiful. He soon learned that her name was Milah.

How strange, he thought, in the presence of Emma, the overbearing presence of the forest, that one action could change the course of a life. Who knew where he’d be if he hadn’t taken his brother’s advice that night?

He knew he certainly wouldn’t be telling the Lost Princess, Emma, that she was a one-time thing.

She staggered back for a moment. “I’m sorry?”

Killian reached for her hand. “I feel too guilty, love.”

“And why ever would you feel that way?”

He looked down. “My past is my own, and it is not pretty.” He reached to move a stray lock behind her ear. “It is not something I’m proud of, and I don’t know I can be someone you deserve.”

Emma smiled at him patiently. “Whatever past you have, whatever you’re not telling me, I’m going to choose to see the best in you.”

He felt like he could fall over, the weight of her words causing misbalance on his toes. “That’s a lot of faith to put in me, love.” He paused, lowering his voice. “Especially for someone who just recently knocked me out.” He raised his eyebrows up at her, questioningly.

Emma laughed for a moment. “And so it may be. But you’ll tell me in your own time.” He’d broken eye contact with her, and so she paused to squeeze his hand and will him back to her. “You withheld the truth from me, but I understand now. You did the best you could with what you had.”

At that Killian smiled up at her. She looked at him quizzically, sensing it wasn’t in response to her newfound faith. “What is it?”

“I’ve heard those words before.” He paused. “Your father is one known to say such things.”

Emma smiled at him lightly. “Do you suppose we should get back to him?”

“Aye, love.”

And with a gentle smile, and a childlike swing of their hands, he began to lead her to her kingdom.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The previous chapter was very much inspired from Neverland, New York City Serenade and Charming’s encounter with the Lady of the Lake. This chapter has more happy roots from Tangled. Hope you enjoy : )

It didn’t take long to make it to the kingdom. Emma supposed the time didn’t lag because of the handsome lieutenant at her side. They’d started the journey (again) with a simple swing of their hands, a lighthearted way to the kingdom.  
They didn’t say much. At one point Killian pointed out a bunny; it’d been hiding behind a bush, causing rustles. Emma irrationally feared it was Ingrid, and when the adorable creature popped out Killian said dryly, “Careful, it can probably smell fear.” They were stopped again when a butterfly landed on Emma’s arm; it only flew away when it was affected by Emma and Killian’s contagious laughter.  
When they finally made it back to the bridge, Emma tensed up. She didn’t want to talk about what had happened just yet. Killian noticed the change in her, glancing for a second and squeezing her hand. He didn’t know what had happened, but knew they’d have time to talk later. Emma smiled grimly, keeping her hopes ahead of her.  
When they reached the end of the bridge, everything seemed to change. The colorful village greeted them happy, and while the villagers were few at this side of the kingdom, they were smiling, some with flowers, some with children, some singing. An artist was painting the ocean, and the birds were flying overhead.  
“The castle isn’t far from here, lass.” Killian grinned, ready to pull her along, but Emma stopped him. “Wait,” she said. “I want to explore first.”  
Killian returned her smile. “As you wish.”  
Food was first. They found a small tavern, one much friendlier than the Snuggly Duckling’s first impression; though, Emma had developed a soft spot for those thugs—especially the man with the hook. They found a small table and ordered cheese sandwiches with potatoes and onions. They sat across from each other at the table, each trying to hide their own giddiness.  
When the food finally arrived, Emma said, “Ah, just like old times,” and withheld a smirk.  
Killian feigned offense and replied, “Love, this is nothing like old times.” He leaned forward and winked. “There are no singing thugs.”  
Emma laughed and swatted at his arm before diving into her cheese sandwich. Traveling had left them hungrier than they’d initially imagined, and it was only after they’d had their fill on food and drink that they began making ample talk.  
Emma was looking around, taking in the bright faces of the tavern. It was sometimes hard for her to comprehend her life in the tower. She had been longing for freedom her entire life, and to see how it had been granted to some as a privilege of life often baffled her. The villagers here were so vibrant and happy. One smiled at her and she almost forgot to smile back.  
“Love?”  
It took Emma a moment, but eventually she mumbled out, “Yes?”  
“Does the princess wish to leave?” Killian stood up, offering out a hand.  
Emma took it, her cheeks brightening, if only slightly. “Aye, Captain.”  
Killian smiled at her, leading her back outside. She looked up at him, still not ready to meet her parents. Her hesitation threatened to swallow her whole, but she still made herself ask if he knew of a library nearby.  
“Of course, love. It’s near the castle. But we don’t have to go in just yet.”  
“Okay.”  
Emma didn’t think it would bother her. Though they were moving in the direction of the castle, it wasn’t their present destination. She wouldn’t be meeting her parents. She wouldn’t be directly visiting the home she’d been torn away from as a baby. She wouldn’t be facing any type of pressure—only the type that exposed itself in a room full of books; but that curious pressure was something she welcomed.  
Regardless, she felt her anxieties rise as the castle grew bigger and bigger. The pastels of the kingdom threatened to overwhelm her, and her hands began to shake. Killian noticed immediately, tightening his grip on her hand as he picked up the pace, mumbling apologies to the many people in passing. Eventually, they rounded a corner and took a few steps into a small building. Killian released Emma, holding the door open for her. Much to her relief, she found the room empty, and filled completely with books. The familiarity of printed words on paper calmed her, though she could still feel a particular heat emanate from her hands.  
Killian shut the door and followed her, to where she’d taken seat on a love couch.  
“Emma, what’s wrong?” He immediately sat down next to her, his hand going up to cradle her cheek.  
“It’s just, I’m not ready. I’m not ready to meet my parents.” She looked down, noticing the soft glow trailing the edge of her fingers.  
Killian stopped for a moment, unsure of what to say. “That’s okay, love. I say, given your situation, that’s completely normal. Though, that doesn’t mean it’s unnatural for fear to be present.” He studied her expression for a moment. “It’s my job, well, I hope it’s my job, to protect your heart. I will be with you, love, if you want me to be. And we will get through this as we’ve gotten through, well, most, of this journey. Together.”  
Her eyes grew wide as she took in the weight of his words. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—deny him again. She nodded at him, but her eyes found her hands again. “There’s more, Killian.” Her voice was quiet. She didn’t say anything for a moment, and she struggled to find her words.  
Killian was patient with her. He knew something triggered her journey back to him, and he wasn’t going to stress her by forcing her tell him what it was. He simply reached for one of her hands, and took it in both of his.  
Emma smiled, slightly. The glow was starting to fade away. “Before I found you again, I ran into Ingrid.” It was Killian’s turn to tense up, but he just squeezed her hand, letting her know he was there. “She tried to explain to me what she did. And why.” Emma placed her other hand on top of his, running her thumb anxiously over it. “I didn’t understand, of course. She was like a mother to me, for the longest time, but I don’t—didn’t—understand. She brought up this vision of my parents on the ocean.” She took a breath. “And, Killian, they’re expecting.” A small tear escaped, running down her cheek.  
“They’re not replacing you, Emma. No one could ever replace you.” He freed his hand to wipe her tear with his thumb. He kissed her forehead before joining their hands together again. “Your parents have never stopped looking for you. Unfortunately, the Dark One possesses powers they do not.”  
Emma nodded, knowing the truth of his words, but somehow unable to make the connection in her heart. “They…they did the best they could with what they had.” She looked fully at Killian, and he felt his heart burst as he returned her smile. “But even then, I’m not a princess. I don’t know they can accept me.”  
“No one is asking you to be a queen now, Emma,” he whispered.  
“I know. I know. But when I ran into Ingrid, I learned something about myself.” She studied him curiously for a moment. “It’s something that I think you already knew.”  
“Your powers, love?”  
“How did you know that?”  
“I knew we escaped from that bloody cave somehow. And I know it couldn’t have been Ingrid. If it was, she’d have left me to perish. Why wouldn’t she? And you, lass, are born of True Love. You’re special, Emma.” His eyes twinkled at her before he resumed a more serious tone. “What did Ingrid say to you?”  
“It wasn’t exactly what she said. She saw…she saw how my hands were glowing. Told me I was on the verge of some marvelous breakthrough, pushed me in front of a carriage. She wanted me to stop it.”  
Killian’s eyes flared. “She loves you, Emma. She didn’t mean any harm to you, no matter how ridiculously wrong that was.”  
“That’s the worst part, I think.”  
He pulled her in closer to him, embracing her for a moment. “We will figure this out. Now that we are at the kingdom, we are closer than ever to the life you deserve.”  
“My powers scare me, Killian.”  
“They don’t need to, love. Sure they’re new and different, but they are a part of who you are.”  
“Do you think my parents could live with that?”  
He actually chuckled. “Your parents are wonderful people, Emma. They are more accepting than anyone I have ever known. Your mother happens to be quite fond of dwarves.” He pulled away to look at her. “It doesn’t matter who you are; if you have a heart, which you most assuredly do, they will love you.”  
It slipped out of her lips before she could stop it. “And you?”  
“Aye, love. I am a fan of all parts of you.” He kissed her temple. “Perhaps we should explore the library a bit further. I do recall someone asking about books.”  
Emma smiled, the tension having been frayed to the end. “Let’s. I want to see if they have Peter Pan.”  
They turned their attention to the bookshelves, and when Killian found the desired book he said, “See love, your parents are the people who would question the validity of heroes and villains.” He handed Emma the book. “They might question if Captain Hook was the true villain.”  
Emma’s eyes widened. “So, they’d consider if Pan was really a hero?”  
Perhaps in another realm.  
Killian replied, “Maybe. What I mean to say is, they believe in second chances. Unfortunately, the Evil Queen had one too many of those before they defeated her. The point is that they choose to see the best in others. Always. Sometimes I think they have more faith for their people than they do for themselves.”  
“Maybe I should put more faith in them.”  
He smiled at her. “Maybe.”  
They continued going through the shelves, occasionally showing the other some gem they’d stumbled upon. Emma was bustling through the shelves when she noticed a hidden staircase in the corner of the room. “I’m going to see what’s upstairs.”  
“I’ll be up in a minute, love.”  
Killian was putting a few books back on the overstocked shelves when two dwarves came in.  
“Snow says she needs a cookbook. I don’t know why she needs a cookbook when she has Johanna.” He was loud and angry, and Killian tried not to stare.  
The other dwarf just said, “They just want to try something new before the lantern festival tonight.” He sneezed which evoked more anger out of the other dwarf.  
“Not all over the books! Sneezy!” He groaned in disgust before going to the desired section and pulling a few books. “Anything else Snow wants?”  
Sneezy just sneezed in reply.  
“Ugh, let’s go. We’ve got a kingdom to prepare.”  
The two dwarves left, much to Killian’s amusement. It also gave him an idea. His thoughts were disrupted when Emma came downstairs. “There’s not much up there.”  
“Ready, then?”  
“If you are.”  
He smiled and they proceeded out the door when their discovered books were tucked away into the satchel.  
The sky was already starting to dim when they stepped outside. It didn’t mean much to the villagers, however, who were dancing in the square. Emma was taken away by the sheer community and energy of the scene.  
“Care to dance?”  
“What?”  
“It’s not a ball, but it will do.” He whispered into her ear, “That’ll be for another time.” She was staring at his devilishly handsome smirk until he grabbed her hand and swept her away into the scene. They were taken away into the crowd, finding themselves with a new partner every few minutes. They met smiling faces and welcoming hands, and the musicians in the street provided a glorious rhythm to their moving feet.  
The song ended with Killian and Emma hand in hand, in the center of the dance. Onlookers cheered, and the couple bowed with the rest of the dancers before making their way onto the streets again.  
“I have a surprise for you.”  
“Another?” She nudged his arm.  
“Aye, love.”  
They were passing a group of bakers, and Emma found herself with a cupcake in her hands. A golden sunflower was frosted on the top of it, and she dragged Killian around the corner. They broke apart the cupcake, sharing it in the small secluded area of the village. The musicians were still playing their melody, despite the fact that the dance had broken up.  
“That was fun.”  
“Wait until you go to your first royal ball.”  
Emma looked at him skeptically.  
“It’s the least your parents would do for you, love.”  
“I wouldn’t know what to do.”  
“You did earlier.” He winked. “Besides.” He grabbed her hands. “You only need a partner who does.”  
He spun her around, and they danced in the small space between what appeared to be the bakery and clothing shop. Emma couldn’t help laughing, given the circumstance.  
“What’s so funny, Emma? You appear to be a natural.”  
The comment only caused her to laugh more. When her giggles finally started to subside she murmured, “Thank you, Killian. Thank you for this day.”  
“Anything for you, love.”  
And so they danced, the love of the night far from being over.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Did somebody say…floating lanterns?! Yes, we’ve reached that point, folks. And for those of you following along, the end is nigh. My a/n in chapter one is so funny, I have no clue how or why I thought this would be a quick fic—obviously, not. There’s still a little to go, but for the moment, it’s been fun playing around in this world.

They walked near the bridge, Killian’s hand in Emma’s, still unbelievably comforting and warm after all the dancing.  
Emma didn’t cringe at the ocean, didn’t notice anything except the gentle light of the stars above them. The sky was beautiful and clear, the blues and purples leading them to other lands. The fear of the bridge was a memory, and as she looked at Killian, she smiled at the faith she realized she was putting in him, herself, her parents—her future. It couldn’t seem to get any brighter than it already was at this moment.  
He was leading her onward, and she wasn’t quite sure where they were going. For a moment, she didn’t think he did, either. His walking came to a stop as he saw something out of the corner of his eye.  
She was smirking at him until he said, “One moment, love,” before squeezing her hand and walking away. Emma stared at him quizzically, wondering what exactly he was up to. They were heading away from the library, from the direction of the dance. Their new direction had them traveling neither towards the castle nor the tower, but Emma knew this wasn’t the reason for her newfound state of calm. It was Killian, and the trust she had in him. Maybe even something more than trust.  
She let out a sigh of contentment as she took in her surroundings in the growing dark. The flowers seemed just as vibrant, and the energy of the villagers even more so. Emma wondered what they were doing out at such an hour. She still wondered even though she knew none of the villagers could have been as exhausted as she and Killian.  
_Killian, where was Killian?_  
She turned her head in the direction he’d left, not really worried. But what she saw had her doing a double take.  
“Um, Killian?”  
“Yes, Emma?”  
“What? What is that?”  
He raised his eyebrows up at her as he approached her, something else obviously in tow with him. “I know you spent the majority of your life in a tower, but I did think you had read so many books as to know what a horse is.”  
Emma shot him a half-hearted glare.  
“His name is Maximus.” He was pulling him forward by the reins. “And _we_ are going to get your heart racing.” Her questioning expression spoke volumes to him. He tried not to let his mind wander to what it meant that he could read her so well, and instead ask, “You really want to lose the fun of the surprise?”  
Emma looked from him to the horse. After a second of contemplation she moved forward to pet its mane. Maximus really was beautiful. The sleeping sun had his white coat practically glowing in the dark.  
“Where did you even find him?”  
“Just borrowed him from a few people who didn’t need him.” Killian gave her a quick wink. “What do you say, love?”  
She smiled at him as she watched him mount the horse and reach a hand out to her.  
“Yes.”  
*  
Emma had never experienced anything like this in her entire life: the setting sun had left the sky shades of blues and purples, painting it a masterpiece as she and Killian rode Maximus to the end of the docks. The wind blowing in her hair, her eyes wide as she took in the natural beauty of the kingdom, her arms around Killian’s waist: it all did wonders to her mood—and she was quite happy before she even mounted the horse.  
Eventually they had to stop, and when Emma’s feet reached solid ground again, all she could grant Killian was a breathless “thank you.” He smiled at her as his feet hit the ground and he reached out to grab her hand. He led her to the docks, where a few small wooden boats were sitting in the water. Emma turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached down to pick up a pink rose and handed it to her. “What do you see, love?”  
“Apart from the beautiful flower in my hands?”  
“Aye, apart from that.”  
She took in their surroundings, actually relishing in the idea of the ocean as he led her along. “I don’t really know what I’m looking at.”  
He withheld the desire to make another joke. This was about her, and he wanted it to be as special as possible. She deserved—not to mention needed—this state of calm before going to meet her parents in the morning.  
“The ocean, love, I thought you’d find it calming.”  
“It is, but so is rum,” she winked at him.  
“Unfortunately, lass, that is a luxury that will have to wait until morning.”  
She smiled at him, looking down at the rose again. She didn’t know what to say, and it was getting darker by the minute.  
“Follow me, Emma.” He finished leading her down past the docks, past the small field of Middle Mist flowers, to a lonely wooden rowboat resting just offshore. She only hesitated long enough to raise her eyebrows at him before stepping in. He followed suit, grabbing the paddles that were resting on the side and leading them deeper into the ocean. Emma twirled the flower in her hands, waiting until they came to a pause before speaking again. The impending night had her shivering before she could stop it.  
Killian noticed, setting the paddles inside the boat before shrugging out of his jacket. “You’re cold,” he stated.  
She reluctantly reached out for his jacket, setting the flower in her lap in the process. She couldn’t tell if it was the cold affecting her nerves or the sheer romance of the scene.  
Killian read her instantly. “Love, look at me.” He reached across the space between them, gripping one of her hands in both of his. “Hey, this is for you. There’s no need to worry about anything.” His thumb found itself tracing the top of her palm. “Trust me.”  
Emma wanted to tell him that she did. She did more than anything. She was still here, wasn’t she? She didn’t run away, and her walls were shrinking every moment she spent with him. She was about to say something when Killian interrupted her thoughts, hand turning her cheek the other direction. “Love, look.”  
She faced the direction of the palace, and what began as something that freaked her out diminished the second she noticed what was in the sky. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought they were stars.  
Her eyes were full of wonder as she asked, “What are those?”  
“Floating lanterns, for the Lost Princess.”  
Emma turned to Killian. “They’re for me? They’re really for me?”  
Killian nodded at her as she turned to look at the sky again, at the way the floating lights made their way from the bright white of the palace. Soon enough, there were orange, pink and yellow lights surrounding them in the sky. Some were close enough to touch, close enough to trace the yellow sun on them with shaky fingers.  
“Killian, this is…more than anything I could ever ask for.”  
“It’s not me, Emma. It’s your parents. Someone must have sighted us at the Snuggly Duckling. They love you, Emma. They’ve never given up hope for you.”  
Tears began to fill Emma’s eyes. Killian sitting in front of her was suddenly too much. Her eyes wandered to the ocean. She couldn’t believe this ocean, the ocean that has once quite literally harbored the future, her fears for her parents, and now—all she could focus on was the reflection of the bright lights in the water, the way it illuminated the kingdom she was so afraid of, the way the lanterns found contrast with a light full of stars.  
When she looked back at Killian, he was staring at her patiently. He wasn’t going to push her to say anything she didn’t want to. He was going to be there for her, as long as she would let him.  
And she knew now that she would let him.  
She lunged forward, grabbing the front collar of his shirt, losing the jacket that had been so loosely resting on her shoulders in the process. She pulled him in for a breathless kiss, immediately trading the jacket’s warmth for his. He responded immediately, cradling the side of her cheek, his fingers reaching out to grab her golden locks. He let her attack his mouth with all the passion she had until he started to grow concern for her.  
He pulled away, resting his forehead against hers, “Not that I’m complaining, Emma,” he paused to reach for the jacket she’d dropped, “but I think you should enjoy, this.”  
She pouted at him, making no attempt to move away. “I am enjoying this.”  
He chuckled, leaned back so he could kiss her temple. “As am I. But the lights will disappear soon, love. Then you can have me all you want.”  
She kissed his cheek and moved across the boat so she could at least sit next to him, revel in his closeness and clasp her hand around his. He wrapped his jacket around her, and she looked at him as she’d been looking at all the floating lanterns in the sky as she whispered, “Okay.”  
The rest of the night moved wonderfully slow. They spent it cuddled into the other’s shoulder, whispering little musings about the lights. Emma was absorbed by the beautiful color in the sky, and she couldn’t help but wonder if paints these colors actually existed. It was definitely something she wanted to check, as she knew she would want to immortalize this scene; save this day forever, whether it was on a piece of canvas or her own bedroom wall in her parents’ palace. She sighed. Her parents’ palace. Killian was right: her parents did love her, and this unconditional display of hope had her heart racing with joy. Since running into Ingrid and allowing herself to trust Killian again, she couldn’t help but think, _At last I see the light._  
*  
_And it’s like the fog has lifted._ Killian couldn’t help feeling relieved. His (could he call her “his?”) princess was nestled into his side, pointing out at the lights. She mentioned wanting to paint the beauty of the night, but he knew that now that she had the confidence in her family, her imagination would be open to so much more than this sky could provide. These lights, while certainly important, would darken in comparison to the love her parents had to offer.  
_And the love he had to offer._ There were times he questioned his intentions with Emma. Sometimes he felt like he was doing these things for himself. But even though he was enjoying more personal time with her, he could tell from the energy emanating off her that he’d done his job: she would be going back to her parents with as much hope they’d put into the festival of lights.  
He sighed as she rested her head in his shoulder. The lights were fading, the lanterns finding homes further away in the sky.  
“Killian?”  
He gripped his hand in hers. “Aye, love?”  
“I…” There was a nervousness to her voice he didn’t expect. He squeezed her hand again, hoping to give her every ounce of support he could. “I don’t want to go home.”  
He was tempted to pull away and look at her, but the comfort was too much to sacrifice. Emma, though, could just tell he had his eyebrows raised as he asked, “What do you mean? Isn’t this what we’ve been working towards…forever?”  
Emma sighed. It was true. The worst part of the matter is that she may never have known her identity had Killian never stumbled upon her tower. She knew Ingrid was deceiving her, but who knew how far she’d ever come to the truth given Ingrid’s powers as the Dark One.  
Without Killian, without somebody on her side, perhaps she’d still be locked up all alone.  
The thought of being without Killian made her heart cringe. “Um, I just. I don’t want to go home, yet.”  
“Well, we do have the rest of this ride. And I’m sure we can find someplace to stay for the night.” He finally turned to look at her, lift her chin up out of sheer concern. “What’s plaguing you? Your parents are waiting for you, and I thought you were just as ready for them?”  
“More than before…but I don’t…” Emma swallowed her heart, took a breath and let the words tumble out. “I don’t want to lose, you.”  
“You say that like I’m going off to war.”  
Emma shot him a glare, shook a bit in his jacket. “But aren’t you?”  
“My duty was to find the Dark One and the _Lost Princess._ Little did I know I’d receive so much in return.” He smiled at her smugly, and she refrained from smacking him on his shoulder.  
“I’m serious, Killian.” She leaned her forehead into his shoulder, officially unable to communicate clearly what she needed from him—or how she needed him.  
“You don’t have to worry about me, love. I’m a survivor.” He winked. “And I’m sure your parents will allow you to have a friend, Emma.”  
Fear quaked in her voice. _“Friend?”_ She didn’t want to label…whatever they were, but she certainly didn’t want to lose him.  
“You know what I mean, Emma. I live in the kingdom. I’ll be able to visit you, and you me. We shan’t ever be too far apart.” He kissed the top of her head, disrupting her forehead’s pillow as he turned. “What do you say? Should we head out, now?”  
Both of them looked around. The lights were disappearing into the sky, leaving them under a blanket of stars. Killian looked up just in time to remember. He pointed to the sky as he said, “That one. Do you see that ‘W’?”  
“The ‘M’?” Emma was squinting into the sky. She’d never really been able to think about the stars living the way she did in her tower.  
“Aye. That’s where the queen sits. Cassiopeia.” He didn’t expect the emotion to take over his voice, never intended to get emotional in front of Emma. The star-seeking was such a habit—missing his brother wasn’t. “First constellation Liam showed me.”  
It was Emma’s turn to reach for Killian’s hand. She didn’t know what to say, and she felt so special that he was sharing it with her. “He’d be proud of you.” His response of “aye” was voiced back so sadly, Emma overcame herself and wrapped both her arms around him. “I’m so sorry, Killian. You’ll always have these stars to remember him by. Every night you miss him, I’m sure one of these stars is him winking right back at you as their lights twinkle down to us.”  
“Aye, love. You’re right.”  
*  
They were silent paddling back to shore. Exhaustion and emotion overcame both of them, and all they really wanted was to find a cute little cottage to rest their heads for the night. They were oversensitive to each other, but nothing else. Sparks flew between them when an elbow or knee bumped the other, but when it came to direction, neither noticed what lay ahead of them.  
The wooden boat scraped the dirt with a thud, and Emma climbed out just as quickly, eager to find her home for the night. It was Killian’s eyes watching her that had her frightened for her life. “Killian, are you ok—”  
“Well, I’m glad to see you both made it to shore soundly.”  
The inherent sweetness in the voice of the Dark One was this world’s greatest irony. Emma didn’t have to turn around to know Ingrid was mere steps behind her. The disappointment was in Killian’s eyes, and the anger a chill on her neck.  
She turned around slowly as Killian finished stepping out of the boat completely. He instinctively reached for her hand before standing level with Emma and across from Ingrid himself.  
“Ingrid.”  
“Pirate.” Ingrid looked to Emma, her jealousy over Killian’s love creating a snarl. “Emma, we should go. You seem cold.”  
“I’m fine. And I’m certainly not going anywhere with you.” She spoke through gritted teeth, but she really didn’t know how this was going to play out. The last time she saw Ingrid, she was on her own. Now she had Killian, and the threat couldn’t seem any more imminent.  
“You failed me, pirate. I expected more of you.” She looked down at her nails nonchalantly, thrilled to get the water boiling.  
Emma shot a glance to Killian, but if anything she tightened her grip on his hand. “Leave Killian out of this, Ingrid.”  
“I want nothing more than that Emma; you and me, going back home. Where we belong.” Her blue eyes pleaded sincerity, but Emma knew there was nothing sane behind that precious little voice of hers.  
“Family doesn’t do this to each other.”  
“Your parents did this, Emma. And as much as you don’t want to believe it, it’s true. As much as you think I’ll never understand, _I do._ What are you going to do when they have their baby, and don’t let you near him out of fear you’ll hurt the child? Do you really think they have all the world to give you? I can give you whatever you want, in whatever realm. I can give you a warm leather jacket, just as this pirate next to you can give you his.”  
“I don’t have anything to say to you. We’re leaving.” Emma tugged on Killian’s hand, but she felt his hesitation. Over what, she didn’t know and really didn’t feel like guessing. She stopped, giving him a confident look before facing Ingrid again. “Ingrid, if you really loved me, you would let me go.”

Ingrid nodded, smiled sweetly before saying. “And that’s exactly why I have to do this.”  
*  
 _Well, now that that’s taken care of._  
Ingrid brushed off her hands, as if her dark magic physically tainted her skin. She didn’t get the shine like other Dark Ones—her darkness was hidden in the glow of her dress, the way her voice sounded so soft and kind.  
Anyone who knows this story would know she’s anything but.  
She smiled as she paced the tower. Emma was back in bed, the lieutenant’s jacket left at the scene of the ocean. She hated to break a romance—but she hated being without Emma even more. She found herself wandering to Emma’s room, tucked under the covers. If she was lucky, Emma would come to her senses by morning. If not, she would have to take more drastic measures. She didn’t want to, but she would—for Emma.  
She knew it may be hard, may be hard now that the pirate seemed to have won her heart—but she would do whatever it took.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my longest chapter yet! Let me know what you think?

Ingrid brushed off her hands, as if knocking Emma out and magically sending Killian away on a boat physically dirtied her.  
She looked down at Emma’s still form. She would be fine, no doubt, but it didn’t mean Ingrid enjoyed doing this to her. If it were up to Ingrid, Emma would come on her own free will.  
She would love _her._  
Not this wretched pirate, whose eyes grew the size of the moon when Emma fell to the ground with a quick sweep of Ingrid’s wrists, landing on the soft dirt.  
The pirate was going to address her, _lecture her._ She could tell by the intake of his breath. But she wasn’t interested in his pointless words; nothing was going to convince her she was wrong unless it killed Emma. The only thing that would stop her was Emma’s physical pain. Her magic could give Emma the world, and she believed in the love in that.  
She was missing the points about trust, patience and honesty. Her past taught her a lot, but anyone would question exactly how she defined love.  
The hole in her heart was deluding her logic, and she didn’t even know it.  
Ingrid watched the small boat sail away. Magic allowed her to upgrade it, adding a wheel and tying Killian to it, after giving him the hint of the spell she bestowed upon Emma. The magic would guide him back to the kingdom and leave him helpless.  
For a moment she wondered if she should kill him; a moment later and she concluded that if Emma were to know the truth, forgiveness would be an even more difficult barrier to pass. It was for the best.  
She watched the boat sail away in the darkness, until it was nothing but a speck riding the tilt of the water. The pirate would make it back to shore, fine; everyone was going to be physically fine.  
Ingrid’s blind spot was her inability to learn from her own past—her inability to learn how what she was doing to Emma (and Killian, at that) mirrored her own pain and buried anger.  
All it took was the snap of her fingers to transport herself and Emma, in a twirl of red and black smoke, to the tower, ignorant of how her unraveled past was going to affect her future.

* * *

 _This woman, cloaked in a dazzle of dark, was holding Emma in her arms._  
_Charming’s clutch on Snow’s arm diminished the second his legs registered the need to rush to his baby daughter—and fast._  
_But fast wasn’t fast enough, and the Dark One disappeared in a curl of black smoke. The satisfied smirk hinting at her lips made him want to scream._  
_For a moment, his wife’s sobs were all he could hear. The room was spinning, and Charming wasn’t sure whether to crumple to the ground in defeat or support his wife. Years had passed with the two envisioning the worst—visions of Regina, the Evil Queen, killing entire villages in their pursuit, could only lead to an even greater Hell for the two of them who had somehow caused her so much pain._  
_Snow’s sudden arm around his brought him back to reality, back to this new nightmare they would have to face together._  
He woke in a sweat, his wife’s soft breathing a melody to his ears. He sat up abruptly, turning to look at her for only a second. Even with age, she was a vision, as beautiful as the moment he first saw her. Her pleasant visage encouraged his feet to leave the bed quietly, his hands not forgetting to tuck her back into the blanket from when his weight dispersed it upon the bed.  
The castle was eerie at night, and he tried not to let the wide halls and looming shadows of the portraits sneer at him. They offered darkness to a man who was supposed to be a man of hope. The moonlight coming in from the large windows was the only light he saw, and he was grateful for it as he made his way to the large kitchen, unattended due to the hour.  
Grabbing the pitcher of water from the table, he let out a breath. It took a moment of him trying to slow his heart rate before pouring himself a cup. He swallowed it quickly, setting it on the table with more force than he meant. Frustrated, he let out a groan.  
_It was too late for this._  
No, not too late for this.  
The entire prospect was ridiculous. Hours ago, the kingdom had been a festival of lights. His people in the palace had been joyous with hope, after years of providing a backbone to the king and queen. Tonight, they allowed _themselves_ to hope. The usual reserved looks of mourn were gone, replaced with beaming smiles. The kingdom of Corona had always been a happy place, but, today, it was the happiest place in all the realms.  
It wasn’t only those in the palace: villagers had taken it among themselves to get lanterns of their own and decorate the kingdom with flowers just as colorful as the lights. Laughter filled the air, distinctly different from the everyday. It was expectant, loose and happy. The normal bustle of it couldn’t compare. They all knew the Lost Princess would be returning soon, and the villagers were all the more exuberant for it. The king and queen had taught them how to hope. While they hadn’t out right stated what he festival was for, the twinkle behind their eyes led the villagers to believe more; the rumors of Grumpy’s shouts through the palace led the villagers to believed more. Their rulers were those of faith, and so they believed and their hearts beamed with light as powerful as the lanterns they set in the sky.  
A lovely, supportive backbone indeed.  
Charming needed that backbone now. He set his palms on the table, his head down, eye shut and breath heavy.  
His daughter was finally returning to him, but something in the pit of his stomach told him wrong. It felt like slime, making its way through his body and into his heart, until it threatened to kill him with the thought. His daughter would be coming home now, no longer a baby but a woman.  
His stature improved as he poured himself another cup, emptying the pitcher completely. He was wearier when he set it down on the table again. Regardless, the silence of it sent his wife down into the archway of the room.  
“Charming?” She called out to him softly, wrapping her silk robe tighter around her body. “Honey, what are you doing?” Her back relaxed against the archway until she saw his expression. She momentarily wished for a candle to further gauge his emotions before rushing over to him. “Hey,” her voice was as soft as the thumb at his cheek.  
The beads of sweat and rate of his heart was more than apparent. The prince feigned a smile, commenting on his need for a drink. His True Love, of course, didn’t buy it.  
His eyes skirted the room, unable to find rest until Snow pulled him in to face her. Hesitantly, he admitted, “I’m worried about Emma.”  
A small sigh left Snow’s mouth as she said, relieved, “Good. I am, too.”  
Charming’s quizzical expression seemed to light the entire room. “Good? Snow, we don’t know what’s going to happen. Where she is. How we’re going to keep her. You call this a good thing?”  
“Honey, this is anything but normal.” She took a breath. “We are finally going to see our daughter again after twenty one years. _Twenty one years._ That’s a miracle in and of itself, and it’s because we never gave up hope.” Her thumb was rubbing his cheek as she whispered, “And it’s okay to be exhausted because of that.”  
Saying nothing, he gave her a small, tired smile allowing her to continue as if she’d never stopped to blink back tears. “I’d be worried if we weren’t worried, if we never had the nightmares. I’m so happy we’re finally going to see Emma again, but I have no idea what I’m going to say to her. How can we ever make up for the lost years? We can’t. And the fact that we’re going to have the opportunity, _against all odds_ , well… I say we deserve to let the emotion cloud us. It’s okay. She’s coming back to us—we just have to wait.”  
Charming finally replied to her but it was in no more than a whisper. “Waiting’s the hardest part.”  
Snow looked down for a moment, her hand falling to his chest. Protecting his heart. “I know. But if it we get through it angry at the world, I’ll just be delighted we got through it. Together.”  
When he was finally able to return her smile she kissed him, soft but full of purpose. They would get through another chapter together, like they got through everything together.  
Her hand found his as she pulled away. “Are you ready to go back to bed?”  
He kissed her again. “Now I am.”  
She grinned at him before leading him back to their room.  
Snow fell asleep almost instantly, but even his wife’s peaceful presence couldn’t steady Charming’s breathing.  
The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was the thought of Emma attending her first ball.  
He pondered what could have been at 13, 16, 18, 20… all significant ages for their own reasons, but Emma wouldn’t have the chance at a ball until she was 21.  
Charming’s last nightmare before morning was dancing with Emma in her room, preparing for none other than a ball celebrating her return. Her silver dress complimented her beauty well, and it was only after spinning privately with her in her room that she was taken away from him again.  
This time it wasn’t Ingrid, but a portal. Winds overtook the chamber, the bed flying, glass breaking. The sound of the wind was too much to hear anything but it didn’t stop father and daughter from shouting out to each other.  
He was grabbing her hand before she was sucked into the purple and blue winds of the storm. The portal closing behind her, leaving him in the shambles of the room, broken glass unicorns a cruel display at his feet.  
Emma was gone, the soft memory of her clutching his hand all he had left.

* * *

Killian held her hand in both of his, gazed into her eyes as if she was the only one in the world.  
They were standing in a beautiful field of Middlemist flowers, all varying shades of pinks and reds. Emma felt like she was swimming in the flowers, like the sunlight was air, like Killian’s hand in hers was why her heart was beating.  
And that’s when suddenly she felt it: the rampant beating of her heart. Killian gave her a concerned look, raised his eyebrows in the way he always did, but his grip on her loosened. He pulled away from her, but instead of leaving her like she thought he would, he examined her from afar.  
“Emma, your heart.”  
Startled, she looked down. “Wha—?”  
Her heart was beating physically out of her chest. Every lingering moment she stared at it, the faster it started to beat. The faster it started to beat, the farther it pushed itself out her chest.  
“Killian, help me! Oh my god, Killian, what’s happening?!”  
Tears pricked her eyes, and he rushed to her, putting a hand to her cheek. “Calm down, love. Slower breaths. It’s going to be okay. Emma, I promise, you’re okay.”  
And suddenly, through the flash of her eyelashes, she saw that his heart, too, was beating very physically out of his chest.  
Was her love for him too much? Unattainable? Unreal? Impossible?  
The volume of Killian’s voice was merging from a whisper as he encouraged her, “It’s going to be okay, Emma. Love, it’s okay…”  
And again quite suddenly—“Emma! Emma, it’s okay, wake up!”  
Relief flooded her lungs as she woke with a start. The room was cool on her skin and she whipped the covers off. A bead of sweat had broken out on her forehead, and she could feel the sting of tears in her eyes. Sobs choked themselves out of her chest as her hands flew to her heart.  
“Emma, you’re safe—you’re home.”  
Ingrid’s sweet face came into view and a shudder went down her spine.  
The image was enough for the tears to leave her eyes. She choked on her next breath, unable to even think about what words should take rise in her throat.  
And the Dark One took it all as a symptom of the nightmare.  
Her motherly instincts had her reaching around Emma, pulling her close. A hand went up to Emma’s golden curls as she petted her safe. “It was just a terrible nightmare, Emma. You’re finally safe.”  
Emma pulled away to look at Ingrid, afraid of the next words that were to come out of either of their mouths.

* * *

Shouts disturbed the residence of the palace. It wasn’t long until Johanna rushed into the king and queen’s chambers. “The lieutenant is here. Grumpy has been shouting the palace up and down, but he says the lieutenant is here and knows about your daughter.”  
The couple stared at her dumbfounded, shocked to have waited only a night for their daughter.  
Sure, they had waited twenty one years, but the pain of the previous night still festered like a sore, and they were surprised to have bandaged it so quickly with this new news.  
“Thank you, Johanna,” Snow replied. “We’ll meet him at the table in a few minutes.”  
“Yes, your highness.” And with that Snow and Charming were left to themselves.  
Snow had been knitting. Charming had his eyes in a book. After the rough night, they’d taken it to themselves to spend the day in their room, doing minimal chores, busying their minds in the most ordinary of ways. Neither expected to have their yarn or words interrupted with the news of their daughter.  
Now, they were both looking at each other. Snow set her work down slowly, the yellow yarn of the scarf barely fazing her eyes, as she spoke for her own benefit as much as her husband’s, “We should get ready and see what he has to say.”  
The previous night, she’d been the strong one. Her shaky voice betrayed her now. Her husband reached out to her, comforting her as she’d done him.  
“You’re right. We should get ready.”  
They both rose from the bed, doing their best to stay calm and see what the lieutenant had to say.

* * *

A large thump startled Killian, as the ground beneath him began to shake.  
His eyes opened wide and his breath was ragged as he took in his surroundings. It wasn’t until he registered his “ground” was a boat that he began to panic. Sea gulls flew overhead, and the strain that was pulling on his arms made his survey of his current situation uncomfortable. He pulled on the ropes and they fell loose quickly, as if he weren’t meant to be kept prisoner there forever.  
It took a moment, but he gathered his strength to stand up, and exit the boat to the shore he’d just thumped into. A deep sigh escape his lips as he realized the reality of the previous night: _he’d lost her._  
To think they were this close to the kingdom! He shut his eyes, and tried to gather his wits. He knew where Emma’s tower was now, but it was going to take a lot more force than the anger he had locked in himself to save her again. Killian bit back a growl and moved forward.  
It was time to see her highness’ father.  
His boots scraped along the entire way; he felt like he was crawling. He was completely helpless, and he was still trying to determine why Ingrid hadn’t killed him—why she had never killed him. After failing to bite back several snarls, he shook his head roughly. Now wasn’t the time for that. His new mission was to make haste for the palace and report all that had happened on his mission.  
Sadness cradled his heart as he accepted that it started with his brother, his lost crew, and the mysterious ice berg. The mysterious ice berg that could now be confirmed as Ingrid’s doing.  
As he walked, he felt villagers staring at him. The people of Corona were very friendly, and his distraught and frenzied appearance was a call to attention in this very bright kingdom. He sighed and tried not to dwell on it. His attempt to stand straighter did nothing for the expression on his face; he still felt he was crawling his way, hands and knees, to the king himself.  
He felt so small thinking that this wasn’t only his king—but Emma’s father. What would he think when he knew—never mind that. The pain that clutched his chest made him shake the thought off and trudge his boots forward.  
When he passed the library and the bakery he tried not to recall the pleasant times spent with Emma there. He focused on the most important part: though Emma was no longer free, she was with Ingrid—and while she was with Ingrid, she was safe. Ingrid loved Emma too much to actually hurt her; besides, he knew the location of the tower. All it would take were some more men to rescue Emma again.  
Something in the back of his mind told him Emma would be fine; images of his fierce, determined Emma flooded his mind like ocean waves.  
For a moment he chuckled. She was many things, and weak was not one of them. She’d knocked him out with a compass, turned the intentions of thugs, had magic of her own—Hell, she’d the strength to leave Ingrid once before.  
If he was a survivor, so was she.  
He looked up, smiled under the blue sky, and tried to hold hope to his heart just as her parents would.

* * *

“Do you need anything?” Johanna ushered Killian into the palace, pausing before leading him any further.  
Grumpy found place at her side, adding, “Anything at all, we can get it for you. The king and queen would want it.”  
Killian shook his head, eyes wide at the sight of palace peoples rushing past, large trays and bed sheets in hand. He’d ever only had himself and his brother, and asking even for a cup of tea in what was probably golden china seemed like a lot to ask.  
Johanna nodded at him. “Maybe when you get settled you’ll gain your appetite. Right this way.”  
She led him down a curved hall, where portraits lined the walls. He scanned for Emma in all of their faces, but not finding her in the dark eyes or brown hair that portrayed the various generations of royal families. It wasn’t until he reached the last few that he noticed a family portrait.  
A younger Snow White and Prince Charming, baby cradled in the center, was set in a gold frame. She could only be a few days old. Though she lacked her golden hair, he could tell it was his Emma. Her green eyes lit the entire painting, and her toothless mouth was agape in a half tired, half happy smile.  
Johanna sensed he’d fallen behind, and Killian picked up his feet when he realized how he’d lingered. Questions were on her lips but she didn’t say anything as she led him into a room behind a large wooden door.  
She paused before opening. “This is it. I won’t be going in with you. The Charmings won’t hesitate to address any of your needs. Feel free to ask.”  
He smiled at her weakly in reply and walked through the door with half his usual swagger, meeting his future.

* * *

The man that walked into the room looked worn.  
He was no longer wearing the complete uniform, his navy jacket and cap missing. The cream of his top and bottoms looked like they had been washed in dirt, and the fine material of his shirtsleeves were askew. Somehow still, he managed to pick up his feet and approach the round table where the king and queen sat.  
He bowed to them. “Your majesties.”  
Snow ushered him forward with her hand, begging him to take a seat across from her and her husband.  
The usually full table was empty. They’d considered asking a few of their people to talk to the lieutenant with them, but from the way Grumpy had excitedly announced the lieutenant’s appearance, they decided it was a talk meant to have alone. Much to the dwarf’s dismay.  
The lieutenant’s story was largely unknown, and he was single. The rest of his crew were amiss, as his usually pristine appearance. If more than this were to have gone wrong, Snow didn’t want the negativity to travel through the palace, then the kingdom, an unnecessary due that would come with Grumpy’s voice. If they needed, they would meet with their fellow counselors after.  
“Lieutenant. Please, sit.” Charming nodded at him. Killian was quick to obey. “Tell us. What became of your mission? You were abroad the Jolly, correct?”  
“Aye,” Killian’s voice cracked. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat before continuing. “We were given instruction to find the Dark One, under your orders and my brother’s. Captain Jones.”  
His weak voice told the king and queen not to expect anything. Snow’s motherly instinct bloomed in her chest, wanting to reach out to him, brush his hair, get him changed, usher him into bed after a complete meal. She restrained herself, but just barely.  
Killian saw the way they were anxiously awaiting his news, and he tumbled over the next part rather quickly. “It wasn’t a success. The ship hit a bloody iceberg, which seemed to be the work of the Dark One.” He noted the exchange between the couple before hurtling over the next barrel of pain. “Needless to say, the ship sank with the collision. As far as I know, I’m the only survivor.” He winced, hurrying towards the next pressing issue. “I didn’t handle it well, of course. I was wandering about before I was ready to make way back to the kingdom and report.”  
Charming was going to interrupt him when he spoke the most important words. “When I found your daughter.”

* * *

 _Your daughter._ Had he really said those words? Snow and Charming’s hands found each other on the table the second they registered what the lieutenant had said.  
The lieutenant must have noticed for the next words were those of confirmation, and, what the king and queen suspected, a hint of fondness. “Aye. She’s beautiful. Golden curls like the sun. Fierceness and determination unlike any I’ve ever seen. She’s very competent.” He eyed the couple, wishing the weight of the situation weren’t so heavy. “Though, she’ll probably be quite adamant about a cheese sandwich the second we get her back to Corona.”  
_We._ The lieutenant had said ‘we.’  
Charming looked at him a little suspiciously, wondering just what ‘we’ meant. He didn’t have time to voice concerns with the lieutenant’s intentions before he was continuing on again.  
“She’s being kept in a tower with the Dark One. I don’t know how no one ever bloody found it.” Frustration lined his voice. “At one point, we had Ingrid’s dagger. Yesterday, we were in the kingdom.” He noted their shocked expressions. “Alas, she caught up to us. As far as I know, she’s whisked Emma and the dagger back to the tower.”  
Surprise filled Snow’s voice as she asked, “She didn’t hurt you?”  
“No. I wondered why she didn’t, myself. Alas, that’s something to question another time, if ever. The important thing is that she loves Emma, and has no intentions of hurting her.”  
The puzzled looks the Charmings gave him forced him to add, “She feels that she’s her mother. I don’t know what happened to her that made her this way, but she’s proclaimed to love Emma. Multiple times.”  
“Multiple times? You’ve had _multiple_ conversations with the Dark One?” Charming was angry. He turned to Snow, his voice a harsh whisper. “And we’re supposed to trust him?”  
Killian, however, was not oblivious to the question. His attention focused on his hands. On the pattern of the table. On how exhausted he was. Anything but Emma’s father voicing his distrust for him. Like he was some pirate who stole his daughter away. Like he was the bloody Dark One himself.  
Snow was better at being discreet while Charming struggled maintaining the volume of his whispers. However, Killian heard very clearly when Snow demanded, “We need to see the best in him, Charming. Stop.”  
Killian looked up in time to see her place her hand on Charming’s arm. He looked unhappy, but he let his wife speak. “You must be so exhausted. I have heard nothing but good things about you and your brother, on all sides of the kingdom where the Navy is concerned. And I am so, so sorry for your loss.”  
All Killian could muster was the nod of his head.  
Snow continued, “I think it’s best if you get some rest and some food in your system. We’ll meet again this evening with our counselors and determine our next move.”  
Killian stood. “That sounds fantastic, your majesty. Thank you.”  
Snow nodded as she stood. She made her way around the table, leaving Charming to struggle with his patience on his own. “You can tell us the entire story then. I’ll send for Johanna to prepare a room and some clothes before your meal.”  
Killian thought the conversation was over, something Snow must have sensed because she grabbed his arm. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I have no doubt that your actions will lead our daughter back to us.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, I had a particular vision with where I wanted to go with this chapter but my muse didn't like it that way; so a few things are going to be prolonged, in a way, but it also leaves more room for quiet moments later! : )

Emma, on her part, was bringing a cup of tea very serenely to her lips. She set it down with expert precision, much to the surprise of her fast beating heart, and reached for the slice of bread and jam Ingrid had set out for her.  
She picked up the knife, trying very calmly not to see it as a weapon, as she spread the strawberry preserve on her toasted bread.  
Ingrid was sitting at the table across from her, watching with concerned eyes. “Are you feeling better, Emma?”  
Emma was munching a burnt end of the crust, buying herself a few seconds of time to answer Ingrid’s question. She smiled slightly and answered, “Much better now that I’ve got some food in me.” Her hand found the teacup again while Ingrid asked, “Do you want to tell me about your nightmare?”  
The large gulp Emma took was largely in part to the question, the normality of the entire situation—but most certainly not the large drink she swallowed down in surprise. “Umm…”  
The dream came back to her in a flash, only furthered by the consciousness of her heart. She didn’t know where Killian was, and she wasn’t going to ask. The memory of his heart forcing itself out of his chest—by doing the one thing it needed to do to keep him alive—was suddenly too much for her. She looked down, brushing the crumbs off her hands.  
_Anywhere but here. Or Corona. If I could only make my way back to Corona._  
Her eyes met Ingrid’s as she feigned fear. “I really don’t want to talk about it.” Ingrid’s downcast eyes caused her to add “yet.” Ingrid smiled at her as she continued. “Do you think we could just go back to how things were?”  
At the observation of Ingrid’s suddenly wet eyes, Emma forced herself to hold her breath. “Yes, Emma. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” She stood up, walking around the table to give Emma a hug. “I’ll start to clean this up.”  
Emma returned the hug, chiding herself for being so sweet.  
_All in due time, Emma,_ she thought to herself.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the table was cleared and Emma was sitting on a stool in Ingrid’s room. She was admiring the various mirrors as Ingrid brushed her hair as if Emma was still a naïve child. Sunlight was coming in from the window, and Emma tried to focus on the promise of light just outside the tower.  
“Your hair is so beautiful, Emma. I remember when you were younger you wanted to let it grow out like Rapunzel’s.”  
She felt her lips curve upward at that. “Maybe that’s because you always read it to me.”  
“Well, it was your favorite. That and Snow White.”  
Emma pretended she didn’t hear the flinch in Ingrid’s voice at the mention of Snow White. And even now, in keeping up with her new façade, tried not to let the idea of having even the smallest of connections with her parents consume her.  
Instead she says, “Tell it to me, again.”

* * *

 _Prince Charming was riding his horse, fast as the wind, the ocean at either sides of him had him. He encouraged his horse to make the gods proud with soft kicks of his feet. “Onwards, Maximus!”_  
 _The horse took his cue, leading him out of the kingdom of Corona and into the forest’s green depths. It wasn’t long before he came across a clearing, seven dwarfs surrounding a glass coffin._  
 _He was too late._  
 _He approached the scene with sad eyes and a gait that looked like it carried the weight of the world. The dwarfs that had been standing around the coffin made way for the prince, their caps clutched at their heart. The prince didn’t acknowledge the look of defeat in their eyes, instead lifting the lid of the coffin to reveal what was his beautiful bride._  
 _Her long hair trailed down her shoulders, her hands rested at her heart, her lips still so red even in death. It was her lips that caught his attention, and he leaned down to give a parting kiss to his one True Love._  
 _The departure of his lips from hers gave him a fleeting chance to look at her still form, the white of her dress communicating to him the ultimate innocence and purity that was forever lost to him. He was ready to turn his back on her forever when a gasp rose from her chest, her lips parted and her eyes widened with the sudden intake of oxygen._  
 _It was an out of body experience, as the shock of her movements registered at the same moment the most naturally beaming smile lit up his entire visage._  
 _Snow smiled revealing no signs of shock herself, full of nothing but true love and hope, saying simply, “You found me.”_  
I found it! Emma’s thoughts disengaged themselves from the imagery of the story, from what was probably the true history of her parents. She didn’t have a single doubt in her mind as to why Ingrid chose to start with this one; now, she knew Rapunzel would probably ring in elements of self-identity. And Ingrid was going to fill her with love and squander any thoughts of escape from her mind with other tales.  
Regardless, she failed.  
The light shining in from the window lit the room, creating harsh reflections in the various mirrors covering the walls. When the light stung her eyes, Emma chose to focus on the vanity and noted a very particular object in its wake: Ingrid’s dagger.

* * *

A bowl of squash soup, a change of clothes, and a nap later, Killian was sitting at the king and queen’s round table with a variety of unfamiliar faces.  
A friend of Snow’s with long dark hair and a red cape about her shoulders sat next to her grandmother, who had a crossbow sitting at her place in front of the table. The dwarf he recognized as Grumpy (the same dwarf, he now realized, that was in the library) was sitting next to a vacant seat, the counselor instead sitting on the table, in the very small form of a chirping green cricket.  
Several seats were still empty, and it was announced earlier that not all of the usual counselors were present. The very quiet murmur that had been going on was stopped when Charming cleared his throat.  
He began, “Thank you all for being here. Everyone, this is Lieutenant Killian Jones. He was aboard the Jolly Roger in pursuit of the Dark One. Killian, this is about half of our most trusted counsel members.” He gestured to each one sitting at the table as he gave names: Ruby, Granny, Grumpy and Jiminy.  
Killian nodded to each of them, saying “Nice to meet you all,” when the king ended with Jiminy.  
“Now, we need to work on strategy.” Charming looked at Killian. “First, I want to know exactly where this tower is.”  
“Aye, your highness. As I told you, I stumbled upon it accidentally. I was reveling in my pain, to be painfully honest. I didn’t notice it until I threw rocks. There seemed to be some kind of cloaking spell on it—the air shimmered when the rock hit, destroying the illusion. I don’t think it would be too difficult to find again. It’s not far off from the Snuggly Duckling.”  
“The Snuggly Duckling?” Snow asked.  
“Aye, it’s a small tavern, full of thugs. Though, Emma did a number on them, revealed their soft side. Surely they would help in the mission, if needed.” He thought back to when Emma told him the man with the hook had given her the rum flask. What he’d give, even now, to see that exchange. Her heart and friendliness with these men only further proved that she was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming.  
The king and queen seemed to have read his mind, as the two smirked at one another. “Grumpy, that’s where you first saw them, correct?”  
He spoke up, louder than probably necessary. “Yes, your majesty.” He trailed off, muttering about the singing thugs. Snow only smiled back at him. “Can you tell us anymore about Ingrid?”  
The lieutenant shook his head. “There really isn’t much to tell.” He considered informing them off the bribe she offered him but decided against it. He wasn’t sure he could handle any lingering attention. “She has her dagger back, which will cause problems.” He paused with a thought. “Your daughter, though? Emma?” He fiddled in his seat, configuring the best way to tell her parents before diving in full force. “This is something she’s still figuring out herself, but she seems to have powers of her own.”  
The Charmings weren’t the only one at the table with wide eyes. “How do you know this?” Snow pressed.  
“We found ourselves in a rather inconvenient place, blockaded in a flooding cave; Emma’s anger to the entire predicament seemed to shake the entire thing, forcing us free.” Nerves made him pause again, hesitant to share the next part of the tale. “Another day, after we’d been separated for a short period, Emma recounted to me an encounter with Ingrid that had her hands aglow with bright light. From what she said, Ingrid seemed to encourage it.”  
Her parents were bewildered with the news, but didn’t continue their questioning and instead asked a question Killian didn’t expect. It came from Charming. “Why were you and Emma separated?”  
Killian scratched the back of his head nervously. “She uhh…didn’t trust me for a short time.” Feeling judgement, but also knowing he must continue, he added, “I withheld some information, and the combination of that and her nightmares led her to knocking me out with a compass, no less.”  
A chuckle left Snow, and Charming related, “Ah, I know the feeling. Rocks and compasses, pretty much the same thing, right?” The memory left a smile on his face, and when Snow was able to stifle her giggling she kissed his cheek. “I take it she came back?”  
“That she did. Determined she made a rather rash decision. Which I’d agree with myself.” He winked, the conversation of his feisty Emma bringing out the playful in him.  
Charming smiled at him, surprised the lieutenant’s sudden playfulness wasn’t off-putting, surprised it didn’t reveal his protective side again. “Alright, Lieutenant. What do you suggest?”  
He raised his eyebrows and found himself scratching his head, nervously. “I say, the best way to end this, peacefully, would be to get Ingrid’s dagger back.”

* * *

The dagger consumed her vision. It was still wrapped loosely in the scarf adorned with suns—suns Emma now recognized as a symbol of Corona. Anger stirred in her and she forced herself to focus on Ingrid’s voice.  
It was just in time, too, as Ingrid was saying, “And they lived happily ever after,” and smiling brightly after the last line was completed.  
“I love that story.” Emma’s thoughts were rushing. She felt heat near her ears as she realized she needed to stay in Ingrid’s room as long as possible. Turning she asked, “What’s your favorite fairytale? Have you ever read it to me?”  
Ingrid was looking at her with both love and wonder in her eyes. “I actually haven’t, Emma. I’m very fond of the story of the Snow Queen.”  
Emma’s eyes lit up, not knowing the implications of the story. “Read it to me?”  
“Of course I will. It’s in another collection though. I’ll grab it. Do you want another cup of tea?”  
“No, thanks.”  
“Okay, just one for me then. I’ll be right back, honey.” She kissed the top of Emma’s head.  
Her dress swayed at her feet and she thought today would be the day. Maybe today would be the day she’d tell Emma the history of who she was.  
They hadn’t discussed anything. She knew Emma had to be upset, but figured she was just taking time, trying to compose her emotions before they were living in a tower breathing in anger, misunderstanding and sadness.  
She also knew, though, that it was important. If she was to continue to have a relationship with Emma, she would need to explain herself at least a little. And if Emma loved her as if she was her mother, she would understand.

* * *

Her mother, Snow White, had saved her. Her story, at least, had let Emma’s eyes wander until she saw the unbelievable: her means of escape.  
When Emma could no longer hear Ingrid’s footsteps, she rushed to the vanity and held the dagger in her hands. She noticed its very obvious presence when Ingrid recounted the tale of her parents to her. It was a story she’d heard a million times. She read it more times than she could count, but suddenly knowing its context had her head spinning.  
Her parents would do anything for each other. She had no doubt now that, if they really loved her, they would do the same for her. The bottled anger didn’t matter to her anymore. As she traced the bold lettering of Ingrid’s name on the dagger, she realized that the festival of lights really was a symbol of all the hope they’d bottled up themselves for years. Her parents loved her and had, probably unknowingly, shown her in the most beautiful of ways. She was so thankful for Killian’s thoughtfulness; his actions of making sure she knew she was loved was fueling her already determined spirit.  
Thoughts of being without Killian dampened it, but she knew she would see him soon. She hadn’t a clue as to what Ingrid did to him, but she didn’t think she had in her to hurt him.  
She was so lost in her thoughts she didn’t hear Ingrid’s return. “Emma, I—”  
She spun around, but not fast enough to hide the dagger behind her back. She looked at her, guilty and grim.  
“Emma. What are you doing?” The teacup was shaking in her hand; the large volume of tales under her arm didn’t look like it was faring well, either.  
“I…I need to go home.” _Honest, be honest, Emma. Despite all, she loves you. She thinks she loves you._  
“You are home.”  
Emma shook her head sadly. “Ingrid, I want to meet my parents. I want to see Killian again.”  
“You’re choosing that man over me?”  
“Ingrid, I’m choosing _me.”_  
At that, Ingrid took a step closer to her. “What do you want, Emma? We both have magic—you can have whatever you want.”  
“I don’t need magic to get what I want. I don’t want to live in this tower my whole life. I want to see Corona. It’s so beautiful—have you ever really looked at it? Don’t you want that for me?”  
“Of course I do, Emma. But I also want a family. I don’t want to lose you.”  
Emma froze, hearing her words to Killian echoed back at her from Ingrid. “What if you don’t have to?”  
“I know those people, Emma. They don’t understand people like us. They never will.” She was seeing red and felt like smoke was leaving her ears. “You go back there, and you’ll understand, Emma. I raised you. I’m your mother, and I know what’s best for you.”  
Ingrid stepped closer. It was the wrong move.  
Emma guarded herself with the dagger in front of her. Her knuckles were white from gripping it so fiercely. “Stop.” She took several steps back. “I command you to let me leave. Let me go back to Corona. Let me find Killian and let me meet Snow White and Prince Charming.”  
Ingrid stared at her defiantly, as if she were the child herself. Perhaps it revealed what her pain had done to her. Her voice was cracked and small. “Please don’t leave me.”  
“Where’s my satchel, Ingrid?” It came out harsher than she wanted. Ingrid, however, kept her mouth shut. A moment later and she didn’t regret being harsh. “Tell me where the satchel is.” The dagger was tighter in her hands, and Ingrid’s response made her feel like she felt it.  
She was forced to resign. “It’s in the top drawer of the dresser.”  
Emma marched her way over to it, yanking the drawer open. Sure enough, it was settled on top. She pulled it out and opened it up, seeing the compass and map were still nestled inside. She looked further until she found the smashed flower she was looking for. She twirled it in her hand.  
_I’m making my way back to you, babe._ She tucked it in the smaller pocket on the outside of the bag, and nestled the dagger into the larger pocket. With a soft huff, she shut the dresser drawer shut again.  
She finally turned to face Ingrid, surveying her harshly, her eyes another set of daggers. She’d kept her composure enough but she knew when she got back what she once lost the emotions would threaten to boil over like water.  
Ingrid pleaded, “You’re going to regret this, Emma.” Even knowing it was too late couldn’t stop her pleading.  
“I don’t think I will.” She gave her one last look before saying, “Goodbye, Ingrid.”  
She heard Ingrid’s teacup drop when she left the room. She flinched at the sound, but never looked back.

* * *

 

They were going to move forward with steadfast steps toward their daughter.  
There was word of a man, deep in the forest, deeper than Ingrid’s tower, but still near, who spoke in riddles. He seemed to have been immortal, long wrinkles lining his face in age, but living nonetheless. Many had consulted him. Many had gone to him in time of need. He seemed to thrive on his ability to make clever and witty deals with the people of the forest. He won, more often than not, though his cocky jests had caused him to split in half more than once. Despite this, he continued on with his power of knowing, stitching himself back together with the deals he made with the desperate.  
Snow was hesitant to accept Charming’s offer, but the urgency to get her daughter back was what won her over. She dared not speak his name aloud, though her husband did.  
Her weariness had even Killian concerned. “So this man does what exactly?”  
Snow met his troubled eyes. They were still sitting at the round table with the counsel. “He’s very knowledgeable of the forest. It’s rumored that he’s gifted with insight to the future.”  
Killian raised a brow. “Gifted?”  
Snow mumbled so low he almost couldn’t hear, “Or cursed.”  
Charming spoke up. “Regardless, he may be able to help us determine Ingrid’s next move. We really don’t know where she’s keeping Emma. And if she’s planning on securing her dagger in a new place, perhaps this man will help us.”  
“Not without getting something in return,” Snow grumbled.  
Charming ran his hand along her arm. “We’re going to have to trust him. This seems better than approaching the tower with an army. She’s the Dark One; we could outnumber her one to one thousand and she would still win.”  
Snow whispered, “Where’s your faith, Charming?”  
He sighed. “I have it. I have faith that we’ll get out daughter back, but I think this is the only way that makes sense.” Taking a moment, he looked about the table, causing Jiminy to speak up. “Your highness, sir, I think this would be a great idea, if I weren’t so convinced this man would want something in return. People go to him for help but don’t always leave without sacrifice.”  
“What could this man possibly take from us?” _We’ve lost everything that matters._  
The wings of the cricket were moving in time with his voice. “I’m not sure, your highness. But Snow is right; this is a probability that needs to be considered.”  
“Screw probability. I’m confident we can get in and out with the information we want. We make quite the bunch here. My anger, Granny’s crossbow, a wolf.” He sounded rather grumpy when he said, “Not to mention your determination. What could we possibly lose?”  
_Your life,_ Killian thought. He’d gone with his brother and crew to track down the Dark One, and while danger was a possibility, as it is with all missions, it was unexpected that soon.  
Ruby noticed his grim look. “What are you thinking, Lieutenant? You don’t know us well, but you don’t think we can handle it?” She neglected to mention she was part wolf.  
“Aye, I think you can handle it. But fate is a wretched thing. What of the consequences?” He bit back a growl. It was for Fate, not the lively, determined people here.  
“Killian’s right, Charming. We sent him out on a mission and he lost his brother. We lost faithful members of the Navy. What’s next?”  
He tilted her chin up with his hand. “We survived the impossible! We beat Regina. How could Rumpelstiltskin be any worse?”  
And so they took a vote, tensions in the room rising.  
Snow, Killian and Jiminy were the only ones reserved, wishing to wait. They were outnumbered by one.  
Charming stood up and put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “We leave tonight.”


End file.
